Chosen To Die: The Tales of the First Quarter Quell
by Squirrel-Punter-6829
Summary: As a reminder to citizens of Panem that no one is truly safe, the President institutes the First Quarter Quell, forcing the Districts to CHOOSE whom shall enter the Arena and bring honor back to their hometown. May the odds be EVER in your FAVOR. Rated T for Teen...or, for violence and bad words and...Hunger Games themes.
1. Prologue

**Prologue **

Twenty-Five years have come and gone, leaving in its way a sense of peace and tranquility that only comes with hard-sought oppression and tyrannical dictatorship under the disguise of having the nation's best interest in mind. Of course, these were all actions more than called for; after all, the Dark Days were a time in our nation's history that one would not want to relive. Hence, the treatment of the Districts, the crippling poverty in some, while the others live in near-lap of luxury, keeping them separate from each other, keeping those that speak out against us permanently silenced in one way or another. And all of this paled in comparison to his most ingenuous plan.

The Hunger Games.

Some would call it a way of bringing back to pomp and circuses of the Holy Roman Empire, others a barbaric and savage attack on those most innocent, but to him, it was his greatest legacy. One that nothing in his life could eclipse, not even his own family. Taking the children of those most responsible for the Dark Days themselves and force them into a world of pageantry and torture before they are inevitably killed for sport, well, that was just too much. It made him...almost gitty with joy to watch those little rats perform for him and the rest of the multicolored maggots of the Capitol, but he knew it could possibly being to get a little...stale...after awhile. Which is why he stood before the Nation today, announcing what will soon become known as the First Quarter Quell.

"Greetings and salutations, most illustrious citizens of Panem. As you are well aware of, the Twenty-fifth anniversary of our great national pastime, The Hunger Games, are just weeks away." He paused, letting his words sink in with the audience at home. "The Quarter Quells are yet another reminder of your insolence during the Dark Days of Panem and furthermore, a reminder that no one is truly safe. Alfonso, if you be ever so kind..."

A small child, nearly six years of age, came onto the screen, bringing with him a small mahogany box. Upon opening it, the President pulled out a pale blue card, clearly marked with the number ONE. His steel gray eyes twinkled as he read the card to himself before dismissing Alfonso and the box.

"To be sure that every citizen of Panem is reminded of their part in the Dark Days and to insure equal chance to participate in our lovely games, each District must CHOSE which young man and young lady is to head into the Arena." Once again, he pauses to let it sink in. "Yes, that is right, Panem. You must make the choice as to whom represents you in this years' Hunger Games. May the odds be EVER in your FAVOR."

With that, the television ended it's broadcast. He could almost hear the collective screams of mothers as they pulled their children closer to them, the prays of fathers beginning that their children be spared the horrors of the games. It was the thoughts of these things happening in the sections with the poorest of the poor that helped in sleep at night. Call him sadistic, call him whatever you like. After these ungrateful bastards turned on the Capitol, effectively biting the hands that fed them, clothed them, and kept them in line, it was the least they deserved. In fact, he would have been happier to turn every District into yet another District 13, but then he would have no one to rule over. No one would fear him, except for the maggots that made up his chosen Capitol puppets. They were the ones that followed him blindly, only asking for newer forms of entertainment and horrid body modifications to get them by. The rest...well, they wanted to live their lives with no one there to watch over them and that just wouldn't do.

He made it a rule to always be watching.

And now, the rest of Panem would be watching, too. Watching as their babies make half-hearted alliances, mame and murder each other for the chance to come home and line their pockets with gold. Oh, and this time around, they will be offered the chance to choose the child that dies for their District and live with the guilt that there was nothing they could do to stop it.

This year...this year...things were going to be interesting.

….

**So, this is my first attempt at a Hunger Games SYOT fanfic. The Bio for the tributes are in my bio and can be sent to me via PM. PLEASE DO NOT SEND THEM VIA REVIEW, IT WILL END WITH MY STORY BEING BANNED! I would also like to add that I do not own The Hunger Games, not that I should NEED to stress that, as it is pretty much a given. **

**Also, for those of you sending the usual Careers...since they were CHOSEN to fight in the games, they would not have had volunteers. (Well, that's the way I am seeing it in my head) So there is no reason to have people vulenteering all over the place. I will also try to keep the list of tributes on my bio as well, this way I am not wasting Fanfiction space and whatnot. So, without further adieu, let the FIRST QUARTER QUELL BEGIN! **


	2. The Devil's Playground

**Chapter One – The Devil's Playground**

_We've got no time to lose_

_Your news is old news_

_Hate this, hate me, hate this_

_Right approach for the wrong_

_It's time to spread the word_

_Let the voice be heard_

_All of us, one of us, all of us_

_Dominate and take the motherf***ng world_

Jettison Allegory spent the morning before his finale meeting with the President in the bathroom stall; his breakfast of steak and endangered Jabberjay eggs staring back up at him as his mind raced with all of the possibilities of how today would go. This was his first year as Head Gamemaker, not to mention the fact that he was new to the Capitol all together. Plucked from his job building the Capitol's monitoring and weapons systems in District Three, he was unsure of exactly why the President took such an interest in him. Couple that with the knowledge that his predecessor, Mikhail Silvers was killed in a mysterious poisoning/hovercraft crash death after his games were thought to be under performing at best, he was a ticking time bomb of nerves waiting to explode. If he had things his way, he would have made a run for it a long time ago. Then again, where would that leave his pregnant wife and young son?

With his arms filled with papers and doodles and anything else related to his arena, he quickly made his way around the labyrinth that is the Gamemaker's chambers, which seems as hopeless to maneuver than any arena he could possibly come up with. He kept his head down and his steel gray eyes focused on the floor, ignoring the wondering glares and sympathetic stares that greeted him from the people that become his underlings once the games began. Although he was nearly into his thirties, he looked like one of the tributes he was designing a whole terrine around the idea of making them suffer before dying; his hair was dark, nearly black and his wire-framed glasses made him seem smaller than he actually was. Still, that didn't save him as he made his way into the office that belonged to the one man he feared in this world.

"P-p-p-president Hollis, I am J-j-jetti-"

He was cut off with a wave of the President's arm. "Please, Mr. Allegory, I am well aware of who you are and what you are hear to show me. Take a seat and we can make this less painful...for the BOTH of us."

Jettison gulped loudly before he plopped the stack of papers down onto the President's desk. "As you can see from my notes, I have spent a lot of time researching citizen's of wondrous Capitol and the things they would most like to see in an event as talked about as our First Quarter Quell. You would be surprised as to the things your very own people have come up with-"

"Skip the dramatics, Mr. Allegory."

"Yes. Yes sir." He rummaged through this papers, much to the disdain of the President, before starting again. "Now, as you can see, the people are getting sick to death of letting nature, or mutation, take its proverbial course and would like to see more tribute versus tribute deaths. Epic showdowns between the Districts are among some of the chief wants and desires for your people, as well as-"

"Just show me the schematics and get on with it."

"R-r-right, Mr. President, sir!" He pulled at a tablet from his top coat pocket, no bigger than tea cup saucer and activated it. For a moment, it glowed a faint neon green, before it shout out of the tablet and created a 3D image of the arena itself. For the first time since he was elected Head Gamemaker, Jettison Allegory saw a grin spread across the President's face. "The Cornucopia will open up at the mouth of a-"

"I think I've seen enough, Mr. Jettison. Our acquisition of you from District Three has been one of my best moves to date." He shook hands with the over-eager techie. "I have high hopes for what should become a proud moment in our nation's history."

"Thank you, thank you so much, Mr. President. I-I-I won't let you down."

"I am sure that you won't." His tone was far more monotone than it had been while examining the killing grounds. "Because I doubt your growing family back home in District 3 would appreciate you coming home to them a defeated, dead man." Jettison's eyes widened in horror, his breakfast lurched back up into his throat. "Good day, Mr. Allegory."

"Tha...tha...thank you, M..m...mr. President."

In his haste, he abandoned his notes and tablet, opting instead to make his exit as quickly as humanly possible. It wasn't until he was once again staring at his breakfast that he knew just has doomed he truly was. Back in the President's office, a smile formed on Mathias Hollis as he examined what he hoped would be the playground for the recently chosen children of the rebellion. The freaks, the killers, the completely psychotic, and even, the best of the best...he would have them all at his disposal. They will become his greatest toys yet.

He couldn't help but laugh to himself as he tossed the tablet onto the table and sat back in his chair. This was the moment that made these past twenty-four years of lackluster games worth it. This might even make up for the Dark Days themselves. He was going to have the time of his life.

**A/N: Thanks to all of you that submitted tributes. If you would like to submit another one, feel free to due so. Thus far, Districts 1-4 are booked solid, as are the female tributes for six and eight. Remember to state a reason as to why they were Reaped...more than likely, they were chosen for a reason. **

**Also, a shout out to HazelFireSky for my very first review! ;) **


	3. The Boring Life of a Former Career

**Chapter Two – The Boring Life of a Former Career**

_There's only two types of people in the world_

_The ones that entertain and the ones that observe_

_Well, baby, I'm a put-on-a-show kinda girl_

**Cassius Cairo – Winner of the 10th Annual Hunger Games – District One**

Part of me feels like a bitter old man; complaining about how kids today have it easier than we ever did, falling asleep at inopportune times, and generally making the people staring up at me uncomfortable. Reapings, at one point in time, were a matter of pride and fighting through the crowds built character and showed off your brutality, giving you a leg up in the games before they even start. Then, they took that away from us, leaving such 'violent and brutish behavior' to the likes of those meat-heads from District 2. And as if that wasn't bad enough, they started PICKING who would volunteer for the chance at eternal glory instead of PROVING it by getting to the stage first. Now the Quarter Quell is allowing us to pick our choices, as if that was going to change anything in a Career District like us? The Capitol really needs to get their heads out of their asses, I'm telling you. Part of me feelings like they are no longer punishing us for the Dark Days, but instead for our over-inflated egos. And how is that, exactly? If we don't return with a victor when we HAND PICKED that person, what does that say about us?

Whatever. The quicker we get to the Capitol, the quicker I get back to the Victor's Village and my life of constant screaming.

Just a few feet away from me, our mayor, whom just so happens to be my pathetic welch of a father, prattled on and on, dragging out the Treaty of Treason even longer than it needs to be. As if watching the propos wasn't bad enough, we are faced to sit through this? I think I'd rather be back in the games and stalked by some outlining district kids with distended bellies and terrible manners than sit through this for another minute.

"Just pick the name, doll face," my voice showing just how bored I really was. "I'd like to get to the Capitol sometime this week."

"CASSIUS!"

"Wrap it up, father. No one wants to listen to you prattling on like an idiot."

My father and the disheartened crowd ignored me, opting instead to continue on with the never-changing annual bore fest. Meanwhile, the maggots in the crowd stare up at me, judging me with eyes filled with pity and annoyance; it is the same look they give me as I make my way through the streets of town. I guess that comes with the territory of not only being a vicious victory, but one that slaughtered the District favorite, Jewel Samson, daughter of the diamond mine owner. Well that, and my three bottle a day alcohol habit...that's another perk of being a victor, but that's neither here nor there.

Finally, the old windbag was finished yapping his trap long enough to allow our new escort to start her way towards the girls bowl. To tell you the truth, I hadn't even bothered to learn her name, as she is only here because her tribute last year, some lucky duck from District 11, managed to hide it out long enough for the mutts to get their teeth into the girl I trained myself, a pretty little thing named Gemma. The screaming that invades my mind during my long, waking hours, got a whole lot worse after she bit the dust. Not that I should personally CARE or anything, it's not my fault they weren't tough enough to came back.

"As always, ladies first!" Her terribly high-pitched and uppity Capitol accent brought me back to reality as she fished the only name in the bowl out. "And the lucky little lady going into our very first, and hopefully not last, Quarter Quell is...VALKYRIE SINCLAIR!"

Sinclair...Sinclair...

My eyes scanned the crowd for another random, vapid blonde, finding instead movement from the seventeen year old section and a dark head of hair moving our way. She was a looker, I'll give her that, but there was something more to her than that. Opting to move past the frilly dresses that most of the girls insist on wearing, she was decked out in black leggins, a denim skirt, and a halter top, which was nothing compared to the spiked boots that she had strapped to her feet. Her pin-straight black hair made her easy to keep your eyes on as she confidently made her way towards the stage. Then, her ice-blue eyes met mine and I realized why I recognized the name.

My mentor and winner of the second games, the man who single-handedly saved my skin and still helps me when the screaming refuses to die out, is the uncle of the girl making her way towards us. In his defense, his face never alters, instead it keeps a winning grin that he usually tends to have when the tributes are called upon. However, I can hear the unevenness of his breath as he eyes her up and I catch the look of sadness that anyone else would have missed. It takes everything in me not to rush to him, showing the tender side the games killed in me fifteen years ago, and do everything in my power to bring the light back into his eyes. Instead, I lean in and simply whisper to him.

"I will do everything in my power to bring her home, sir."

While he didn't acknowledge my words, I knew they registered with him, as his smile faltered for just a split second.

"Do you have anything to tell your public, little lady?"

"I could tell you that I am going to be your next victor, but I'd like to show you it instead...in the arena."

Now I know why she was picked. If there was anyone that could prove that District One's females were more than ditzy little airheads, it was her. Even Axinite Ludwig, the girl we had managed to bring home two years after I made it back, was impressed. Sinclair trained the girl himself, using everything that had made him a legend here to create a tribute worth staying sober enough to train. Here's hoping our fellow citizens allow lightening to strike twice.

"And our lucky male tributes is...GOLD KYOPIE!"

A very enthusiastic eighteen year old leaps up in the air as if he was already crowned the victor. "YES! IN YOUR FACE, GRANITE!" With hair that didn't seem to know if it wanted to be dark blonde or light brown and dark brown eyes, not to mention a nicely toned muscular body, he was going to be an easy kid to get sponsors for. And of course they will want him, for he could quite possibly be the first child of a victor to win the games himself. Next to Axinite, I could see Opal Kyopie beaming with pride for her baby boy, especially since he had chosen to mention her in his last words to District One.

"Mom..." He began, adjusting his crimson tie, "...I'm coming back home to you."

Yes, Panem...the odds ARE in District One's favor this time around.

_Come ride with me_

_Through the veins of history_

_I'll show you how god_

_Falls asleep on the job_

_And how can we win_

_When fools can be kings _

_Don't waste your time_

_Or time will waste you_

**A/N: First Reapings down, only eleven more to go! BIG thanks to those that have been following, favoriting, and reviewing my story, it means a lot to me. BIGGER thanks to ILikePie99 and MidnightRaven323 for use of their tributes. Also, for the Reapings, I am going to do it from the point of view of someone that isn't a tribute. To me, it makes it feel as though we are the ones there, putting in our two cents about the person or people involved. Once the games begin, I will break it down so that you see a little of each character before the games and get a real feel for them. Also, I am still in need of tributes, so send away.**


	4. The Sadist and the Klutz

**Chapter Three – The Sadist and the Klutz**

**Quintus Onyx; Year One in The Reaping Bowl and Brother of Two Victors – District Two**

_Come step inside my hate_

_You know there's nothing to it_

_Step inside my pain_

_You'll never make it through._

_Lose your mind inside_

_The Please lies within your pain_

There are definite perks to being the younger brother of District 2's most recent victors. The living arrangements are an upgrade, as we moved from our tiny house near the quarry into Victor's Village when my eldest brother Julius came home to us. Then, when Maximus made it back two years ago, we were given the house next door. Anything we could possibly want is at our fingertips, thanks to the riches the Capitol tosses our way, which is a huge step up from starving to death, which was the direction we were headed. The other kids respect me now, thanks to my big brothers. However, they don't have to listen to them scream out in terror in the middle of the night and are left to wonder if they just won't end the nightmares one way or the other. They haven't had a knife pulled on them because Julius had another 'Arena Flashback'. Max wasn't always this bad, but when our sister, Lucilla, tried to follow in their footsteps last year and was taken out by that bitch from District 11, he ended up a blubbering mess for the past few months.

Yes, being the younger brother of two victors has its ups and downs.

That's why I started training last year; so when it's my turn to go into the arena, I cam go into the arena and come home a sane and sober man. It just can't be this year, not my first year. No twelve year old stands a chance in the arena. None of them have made it past the Bloodbath, even the two that came from our district. And since it's the Quarter Quell and we picked our tributes, I have just as much of a chance of getting called as anyone else and no one would be able to volunteer. And why wouldn't they pick me? District 2 is in need of another Onyx victor to make up for their disappointment last year.

On the stage, our escort Jiminey sits next to Julius, whose eyes have an unnatural yellow glaze to them, and looks like he wants to run back to the Capitol and hide for another year. Max has been siked all week, even going as far as to join me at the Training Center and help get me ready and check out potential tributes for this year. Why he bothered to look there, I'll never know. It could just as easily be any other kid in the district, some random brat that no one likes. I'm just hoping people don't hate me or my family that much.

As the Treaty of Treason ends, my body beings to go into panic mode. My limbs begin to visibly tremble, my mind began to race, and worst of all, sweat began to pour out of me as if I had just spend the past three hours training with Max. It's the wait that kills you. Jiminey's walk is too slow and each tiny step with his tiny baby legs is another nail that pins my feet to the their spot in the twelve year old section. I'm not going, I refuse to go. I don't want to end up like my brothers.

"Ladies first!" His voice is too high-pitched and squeaky for his fat, little body. "And the lucky girl is...AUDUN JANE BAER!"

No. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no. No. I can't go into the games now, I'll never make it to the arena, let alone past the Bloodbath. Any other girl but her.

Her maniacal laughter echoes from the fourteen year old section and grows over the hushed crowd. Her dark, wavy curls hung down her back and bounced as she skipped her way towards the stage and I swear, I could see all of her teeth in that smile she had plastered across her face. District 2 is known for its brutal tributes, but this...I can't believe they'd allow this. My only guess as to why they chose her is because they are hoping someone takes her out in the arena. That, or she'll win and never leave the Village...

Oh no...I could become neighbors with her!

My mind goes right to the first time I saw her, my first day of Training School. She had grew up at the school, as did a few other kids that were orphaned or abandoned. She was the latter and one of the first kids to become full-time trainers. I thought nothing of the raven-haired little girl, who is still smaller than me, until she saw me sitting at my desk, studying edible plants. Without saying a word, she dropped her bag on top of my books, slid a dead squirrel out of it and left it as a present in front of me. My vomit covered the 'gift' within moments and I passed out, leaving her to stand there and laugh, while poking at the poor animal's blank, bulging eye with my pencil. And the abuse didn't stop there, it was like she found an easy target in me and picked on me more than anyone else. It was like she got off on hearing my cries echo through the halls of the Center. And I couldn't tell anyone...the Onyx Brothers fear nothing. So for two years, I have been at her mercy, and I can't do it in the arena. I won't last five minutes.

"Now, for the gentleman that will be accompanying Miss Baer into the arena." He squeaked as he made his way towards the other bowl.

Not me. Notmenotmenotmenotme! Not me! NOT ME!

"WILLIAMS VALENTINE!"

Him? What was everyone thinking? Did they really hate him that much? Or worse, did they really hate District 2 that much? From the sixteen year old section I could see his chestnut brown curls make their way through the crowd, bumping into everyone as he made his way towards the pathway. A few steps in and he tripped over nothing, hitting the ground hard and causing the crowd around him to roar with laughter. I thought Audun was going to wet her pants on the stage, but instead she fell over laughing hysterical. I am so glad that District 2's lack of a real champion was funny to everyone. Now Maximus is going to come back an even bigger wreck than last year.

"Why me? I did nothing wrong!" I could barely hear Williams over the laughter and yet, I could understand his plight. He was a bumbling mess of a guy whose mother was the most hated woman in the District. However, he was a pretty nice guy, despite his clumsy ways. It was like the poor guy had the world's worst luck and it's a shame, really.

I doubt he's going to make it past Audun the Sadist.

_I've gone through life white-knuckled_

_In the moments that left me behind_

_Refusing to heed the yield_

_I penetrate the force fields in the blind_

_They say I'll adjust_

_God knows I must_

_But I'm not sure how_

_This natural selection picked me out to be_

_A dark horse running in a fantasy_

**A/N: Another two down, ten more to go. I still need tributes...they can't all come from Richards25. :) But seriously, if you'd like to send in another tribute, feel free. And thanks to HazelFireSky for Williams and my best friend Holly for creating the psychopath that is Audun. As for the songs I am using in my chapters, I have a song for every tribute thus far. The one at the beginning is for the girls (since they are Reaped first) and the last is for the guys. At the end, I will give a proper shout out to all those artists I am ripping off to pay tribute to my/your tributes. One last thing...thanks for the reviews, guys. I appreciate it. **


	5. Today, On Head Gamemaker's Wives

**Chapter Four – Today, On Head Gamemaker's Wives...**

_In a modern culture_

_My friend you must be careful_

_They've got a million ways to kill you_

_In this dangerous world_

_There's an art to growing old_

_Taking chances, magic happens_

**Valeria Allegory – Wife of the Head Gamemaker – District Three**

We are outcasts now, my son and I. District three has shunned us like we have the plague, parting like the sea to let us pass if they see us on the streets, their whispers roar like a raging inferno around us. For the most part, we ignore them. It isn't as if any of this is truly our fault, but no one else sees it that way. Even my family has grown to resent me, all because of him. All because he took that damn job for the President.

But, in all honesty, what would anyone else had done in our position? Is it far to judge us and say that you would rather spit in the President of Panem's face than take a job from him, when we all know that would be an outright lie? No one lives when they deny the President, especially when it comes to his precious games and it doesn't stop there. Your family, your friends, they all start to disappear and turn up dead in mysterious accidents. Much like my husband's partner, Unus Linux, who turned up dead when he turned down the President's offer to be a gamemaker last year. A tragic boating/poisoning accident my foot...who the hell in District Three goes out on a boat? And his wife...rumor has it she is now an Avox, waiting hand and foot on the tragic District Three tributes during their time in the Capitol. It makes me sick. Now their children are just another pair of street kids, scrapping to get by and slowly starving to death. I can't even imagine what would have happened to our son if he had turned him down...

"Welcome, welcome, welcome to the Twenty-Fifth Annual HUNGER GAMES!" Maleficent Jones's voices goes right through you, I swear. Even the baby growing inside of me kicked, as if even he could hear her. "As always, ladies first."

Next to me, I felt a slight tug on the bottom of my dress. "Why is that lady dressed up like a motherboard?"

"I'm not sure, sweetheart. We'll have to ask daddy next time we see him, won't we?"

"Mama, why does no one talk to us?"

A lump grew in my throat. "We'll talk later, sweetheart. After the Reaping."

"PHLOX WHEXL!"

In the fifteen year old section, a circle opens up around a tiny girl with thick, red ringlets that fall down to her shoulders. She looks barely twelve, let alone fifteen, and my heart pangs with guilt. If only they would allow adults to go in and save these children, to die and suffer in their place. This is madness! What could she had possibly done for them to have picked her? If her ragged Reaping Day clothes were any indication of the poor little thing, she was probably a street kid, much like the Linux kids are now. To her credit, she doesn't look frightened or sad, instead she has a distant look in her eyes, as if she is pretending to be a million miles away. Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Whatever it is, I hope she uses it to get by in the Capitol.

"Congradulations, Phlox! You will be joining me in the Capitol!" She hugs the girl, who looks more repulsed by this than going into the Games themselves. "And now, for the gentleman that will be accompanying Phlox into this years Hunger Games!"

I hold my breath, wondering which poor little boy will be joining this crimson-haired angel as District Three's tributes.

"ELLIOT FLAY!"

A head of brown spikes makes its way from the seventeen year old section and I recognized his name right away. Last year, two out of three triplets were Reaped into the same games and survived for a good while, even taking out the brute from District One, a rather lanky fellow by the name of Tanner with one of the girl's electrical contraptions. We were all glued to the TV, hoping against hope that at least one Flay child would make it home. But alas, the games were too much for them and they died protecting one another. Poor Elliot was forced to watch both of his siblings fall in the same games and it brought back a pain I had buried deep inside me since the early days of the games.

"Pfft, the little shit deserves it. Conspiring to kill the Mayor of our beloved District. I hope some Career guts the little bastard."

I turned and stared hard at the man next to me. "That is a child, you horrible man!"

The woman next to him scoffed. "Look at you, acting all high and mighty. It's your husband that is going to be killing these kids! That makes him and anything associated with him the real monster in all of this!"

"You talk as if Jettison had a choice in all of this!"

"If the President had asked ME to do it, I would've-"

"Done what, exactly? Taken a bullet to the head? Left your family to suffer without you! Do you really think I like what he is doing, like these games haven't effected me? I lost my twin sister to these games! I watched my own flesh and blood die the same way that poor boy has! And you have the audacity to say something to me about it? To hell with you all!"

With that, I turned my back on the Reaping, on the poor little children that my husband is currently designing new and interesting ways to kill. And most of all, turning my back on District Three as a whole.

"Come along, Beetee. We don't have to take this from those people. Your father...he is a good man."

_Karma police_

_I've given all I can_

_It's not enough_

_I've given all I can_

_But we're still on payroll..._

**A/N: Another Reaping down, just nine more to go. HUGE THANKS to this chapter's character contributors, District3Girl and Chiri-Tan, I love your characters. Onto District 4! **


	6. Hero Worship and Family Affairs

**Chapter Five – Hero Worship and Family Affairs**

_She puts her makeup on_

_Like graffiti on the walls of the heartland_

_She's got her little book of conspiracies right in her hand_

_She is a paranoid endangered species headed into extinction_

_She is one of a kind_

_She's the last of the American Girls_

**Starr Coral – Mayor's Daughter – District 4**

Daddy wouldn't let me play in my new dress today, he thinks I'll get it all dirty. I guess it's because today is Weeping Day. Mama must've known it was Weeping Day before anyone else; she's been crying for days now. No one is talking to her, 'specially daddy and Darla, my older sister. I can see her now, staring at mama from the fifteen year old section like she did something bad. It's the same look she gives me when I go through her makeup drawer or try to read her diary. I don't think mama did anything like that, but no one will tell me what she did because they think I'm a baby.

I'm no baby! I'm going to start at the Career school like m sister in a few years. I'm already learning about berries and I'm great at tying knots...and babies can't tie knots.

Lavender Rogers, the lady that picks the names from the big fishbowls scares me and I hate being on stage with her. I hate being on this stage anyway, because there's nothing fun to do. Everything is so boring here. I'd rather be in the crowd with Darla and away from my parents because I can't stand the silence between them. At least I have Mags up here with me, she always makes me laugh. Even now, she is making faces at me and making me giggle and my daddy is shooting me a dirty look. I can't wait until Mags is my mentor and my name gets picked on Weeping Day.

The video about the Dark Days finally finished and it was Lavender's turn to go to the ball. Today, she looks like a giant purple and green kitty cat...thankfully my own kitty, Jessie, doesn't look like her. Her hair is done up like kitty ears and her face has whiskers. WHISKERS! Why does she have them on her face? She even has a tail! It moves and everything and has green and purple stripes. These people from the Capitol give me nightmares.

"District Four's first ever District-Chosen female tribute is... DRAIVEN MAXUS!"

Draiven? She's a legend at the Academy. My sister has been trying so hard to be just like her, but Darla is nowhere near her. Darla even tried to get Draiven's side-bangs, but her hair is nowhere near as pretty as Draiven's hair is. Even watched in awe as she made her way from the eighteen year old section and her hair was held back with a white headband that matched her white flats, which all made her green dress look so beautiful. She's tall, taller than me and my sister. I think she's going to win this for us.

When she got up on stage, I waved her and she smiled back at me. For a Career, she's so nice.

"Ms. Maxus, do you have anything you'd like to say?"

She smiled, showing off her bright white teeth. "I expected to get picked and I won't disappoint. District 4 shall have another victor!"

Lavender squealed and she sounded like a dying doggy. "Oooooh! Draiven Maxus, everybody!"

The crowd clapped and I jumped for joy, until Lavender made her way over to the boy's bowl. "And the first ever chosen male tribute for District 4 is...PIKE CABOT!"

Everyone in the crowd gasped and a woman let out a cry as a blonde haired boy made his way from the sixteen year old section. He looked like he just got out of the sea and since he's wearing board shorts, I think he did just come from the beach. It wasn't until he made his way onto the stage and I noticed the smile my daddy had on his face that I realized who he was.

Pike Cabot was the boy my daddy found playing doctor with my mama.

He's the reason why my parents aren't talking to each other and why Darla is mad at mama. I guess my daddy doesn't like mama having friends over when he's not home, which is all the time. But mama says her life is lonely and she doesn't have any family or friends. I told her she has me, but she just ignores me. I don't get it. I also know that Pike's daddy runs the local fishery and most of the men in our district work for him, so I bet they are going to be sad to see him go. Especially since he is up against a girl like Draiven.

Pike glared at my daddy when the microphone was handed to him. "I, too, can see why I was chosen to die in these games. Guess I gave her something you can't-"

Much to the shock of the crowd, my daddy went after Pike, but was stopped by Peacekeepers. I couldn't help but start to cry, even though that's what babies do. Mags grabbed me and pulled me close to her as Peacekeepers took Pike away and forced my daddy back to his seat. My mama ran off the stage, her face red and blotchy.

Mags kissed me on the forehead and held me close to her. "Don't worry, little Starlight. If you ever need anything, you come see me in the Village, ok?"

I nodded. "Ok, Mags." I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my dress and sighed hard. "I'm not a baby for crying, right Mags?"

"If crying makes you a baby, that makes me one, too."

My mouth dropped. "You're not a baby, you're a victor. And one day, I'm going to be just like you!"

Her eyes looked glassy, like she was going to cry. "My little Starlight...you don't ever want to be like me."

_I'm head of the class_

_I'm popular_

_I'm a quarterback_

_I'm popular_

_My mom says I'm a catch_

_I'm popular_

_I'm never last picked _

_I got a cheerleader chick_

**A/N: And that, my friends, is District 4! Huge thanks go out to Squintz and Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg for the use of their characters, not to mention Squintz for being the first to send me a tribute! Also, I'd like to thank all of you that are reviewing, favoriting, and following my story...it means a lot to me. You guys are great and I would've abandoned this story if it wasn't for you guys. **


	7. I Know All Your Secrets

**Chapter Six – I Know All Your Secrets...**

_Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_Why you gotta be so mean?_

**(Name Withheld) – Male Avox – District Five**

People seem to have a romanticized vision, or at least, a very disillusioned vision, of how I ended up the way that I did. Some speculate, and do so right in front of me as if I was not there, that I tried to assassinate President Hollis or poisoned the drinking water or kicked a bunny. Others have it in their head that I lead the rebellion that brought about The Hunger Games. What they don't know is that those types of people have it easy. Well, maybe not the bunny punters, but the rest have it easy. Some torture, a few names and events are dropped, and then death. Death is not something afforded to people like myself. It is too easy to allow death to greet me like an old friend, we must suffer until our dying day.

That's not to say that being a person like myself does not come with some perks and privileges. Because everyone knows I can't blab what I see to another living soul, I am the guardian of their secrets, their confidant, the ones they bare their dirty laundry to in a failed attempted to die with a clean slate. For example, I know that District Five's long standing escort, Miss Tullulah Nightshade is not a 'Miss' at all, and has been living as such since he defected from District Ten long before the rebellion. I also know that his natural skin color is not maroon, but any idiot would guess that. I know that the biggest Power Plants in District Five has a secret lab hidden underneath that they have nicknamed "The Hive" and that is where they create the mutations that they use in both The Hunger Games and on unsuspecting 'traitors'. I also know that they Mayor himself gets a big wad of cash to keep his mouth shut, as well as other Capitol perks. (I even heard that one of those perks is coming in the form of Zion Somerset, the winner of last year's Hunger Games and that she is none the wiser. Poor little girl...)

So you see, sometimes it does pay to keep your mouth shut every once in a while.

Miss Nightshade's plump, maroon body made its way towards the Reaping bowl, her excitement in calling out the names of two more children that will be most likely dead in three weeks time showing in 'her' eyes. "Thanks to President Hollis' Quarter Quell picking, this year you as a District banded together to pick two lucky young ones to join me in the Capitol and are given the chance to bring home another victory to our great District."

No one cheered, I most give them that.

"Now, as always, ladies first!" Her fat fingers barely made it into the small opening of the bowl, but alas she pulled out the only slip of paper inside. "ZENA STIG!"

My worst fears are realized, as movement from the twelve year old section produces the chosen female tribute from District Five. Tears are already visible on her pale cheeks as she makes her way towards the stage. The crowd is completely silent, as if the guilt from picking an innocent little girl to die was eating them alive. Well, I hope that it does.

Zena makes her way over towards our very first victor, Eliza Powers, who is actually the winner of the very first Hunger Games, just twenty five years ago. Zena, believe it or not, wasn't much smaller than Eliza, who seems to have shrunken into a shell of her past self after watching tribute after tribute fall. I can't help but stare at the adorable little girl, with her thick glasses that hide her emerald eyes and her long, light brown hair pulled back in a blue ribbon that matches her blue, flowery dress. She looked as though she couldn't hurt a fly, even if she wanted to, and yet, this was the girl that they picked to represent them in the games. I couldn't help but think that maybe she was just the best of a terrible situation, but that didn't excuse the people of this District. When she doesn't come back, it will be on their heads.

"And now, for the boy that will be joining us in the Capitol," Miss Nightshade squealed before pulling out the last remaining slip of paper. "EKO DARSON!"

Movement from the eighteen year old section made me feel a lot better about the people of Power District. Within moments, a dark-skinned young man with sad brown eyes and a buzzed head made his way towards the stage. He stopped for a moment, as if he heard something, only to be joined by a little girl that one could tell right away was his sister. As Peacekeepers ascended on him, he kissed her goodbye before making his way back towards the stage. He was tall and built, the kind of guy you might see hailing from a Career District, but something about him seemed to give off an allure of a 'gentle giant'. Despite that, I think had just as good of a chance at coming home as anyone trained specifically for the games.

"Shake hands you two," Nightshade squealed again, as Eko finally made it onto the stage. "EKO DARSON AND ZENA STIG, YOUR CHOSEN TRIBUTES FOR THE TWENTY-FIFTH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES!"

For the first time in a long time, I wish I could voice my opinion. That I could speak my mind and let loose all of the anger and frustration I have had pent up inside me all these years. These people are supposed to protect their children, to shield them from the harsh realities of Panem, yet they chose to send in an innocent little girl and a giant that has a little sister that cares about him. And why? So that their own children are spared for another year? Why should their children be left to see another sunset, while their days were numbered?

Why was my Felicity was forced into the games when she was just thirteen? Why was Eliza allowed to come home that year and not my darling angel? Eliza was her ally and now I am forced to watch her come back every year, to watch her breath and fail at bringing home more than just one victor in all of her years as mentor, yet Felicity is in a pine box back home in District Twelve?

The rage I have been pushing down finally rose up and overtook me, clouding over any rational thought I could possibly have that would override my judgment and the last thing I remember was the guttural sound that escaped my lips and grabbing the microphone stand. Electricity coursed through my veins, jolting me back into reality and I saw Eko protecting Zena with his body and Eliza unconscious on the ground, her head bleeding profusely. Oh no...what have I done? Not Eliza...she was my only link to my beloved Felicity. And now...

A smile grew across my face as I saw her breathe one last time. My one last thought as the Peacekeeper's billy club closed my mind off forever was a happy one...the thought that Hollis' days as President were truly numbered...

The joys of being the Secret Keeper of the rich and powerful.

_I'm on a mission_

_To see what's been missing_

_My favorite song is on repeat_

_But it's just not helping me_

_My eyes have been wider but never been brighter_

_Something else is going on_

_I need a reminder of why I feel this way_

**A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews and whatnot... you guys are amazing. And big thanks to samiesimpson1 for the use of her tributes; both Eko and Zena belong to her. Sorry if this one seems shorter than the rest...I try to have about the same amount of words and face time for each tribute, as to not show favoritism in the slightest. **


	8. EscortsThey Are Just Like You and I

**Chapter Seven – Escorts...They Are Just Like You and I...**

_You will understand me now_

_You don't want to come back to the fight_

_I've been the underdog all my life_

_I can feel it_

_I will not stop until I see you down_

_On the ground_

_Cause I am still alive_

**Skylark Benson – Capitol Escort Extraordinaire – District Six**

They hate me. The people of this filthy, smog-covered hellhole have the audacity to hate me, as if I am the one that has chosen their children to die year after year. They think I enjoy what I do, just because I show up here every year, dripping myself in the latest Capitol fashions. I don't like watching their children die any more than they do, I actually relish the time I spend with them. The smile I paste on my face as I pull another death sentence out of that bowl is the least real thing on my body...and as a plastic surgery nut, that is saying something.

This year, things are different. The votes have been counted, the die has been cast out onto the gameboard, and all the pawns are in motion. All that is left is for me to draw the names of the two players of this game, the ones District Six has picked to lead them.

You would think that the fact that they are the ones that are truly picking the tributes would made me feel just a little bit better about my job, but that is not the case. It kills me every year and yet, I have my own role to play in this charade. Without the bubbly hostess, it would be a lot darker of a gameshow. I like to think that the smile I fake for the crowds actually helps them, that it gives them a bright spot in their dull, cruel lives.

No. They see me as the villain and I don't understand why.

This doesn't deter me from doing what is expected of me. Instead, it actually keeps me going. If they must see me as the bad guy in this, so be it. Maybe they need someone to hate for all of this and I am just their pariah. I just wish I could show them how I really feel, instead of just sharing it with the children that never make it back. Only Pox, our only female victor from a few years back, knows the real me. She understands the nightmares that plague me, for she has it worse than I do. I wish the Capitol did more for the victors than toss never-ending sums of money their way and supply a place to live.

Showtime. The propo has ended, as has the Treaty of Treason. It is now time for Skylark Benson, known back in the Capitol is little Allie Trinket, to shine like the star the Capitol and District Six needs her to be!

Thankfully, the Capitol's obsession with the highest of heels is over and I am able to gracefully walk to the Reaping bowls in my dark blue flats that clash my hovercraft-inspired outfit. (I am so making outfit-clashing a hit, just you wait and see) With a gleeful grin, I select the first name as if I was giving away a years-worth of food.

"DECEMBER DAWSON!"

A head of dark brown hair makes its way from the fourteen year old area that must be attached to next child to spend time with me in my hometown. She's a pretty thing, or she would be if it wasn't for the scar that stuck out like a sore thumb on her upper left arm. Her purple dress, obviously a hand-me-down and not brand new, was a great fit on her and I made it a conscious point to tell her stylist how good she looks in the color and pray that they listen to me. Oh, and those green eyes...almost the same color as the shores of District Four, or so I am led to believe. Such a pretty little thing, it makes me wonder what she could have done to wind up on this stage.

"What a special and lucky little girl you are!" I announced to her, as if she didn't already know it. The anger that lit up in her eyes gave me an inkling as to why she was here to begin with. "Now, onto the boys."

"GRAYSON WHEELER!"

A great pick, if I do say so myself. Mr. Wheeler made his way over from the other sixteen year olds, standing high above the other boys his age, his ashy blonde hair and green eyes complementing his muscular body perfectly. He would be a sponsor's wet dream, a true outer District contender if you ask me. However, the sad look that accompanied him made me think that he was expecting to be picked in some way and that made my heart sink just a little bit. Then again, if he knew he was being picked, he would have chosen a better outfit to come to the Reaping in. A black t-shirt and jeans? What will his stylist think?

There I go again...thinking like the Capitol robot these people see me as. Maybe they are right, maybe the smiles and waves aren't all faked, they are programmed into my nature, thanks to growing up in a place where everything is handed to you. Maybe I am over-thinking things and need to get back to what really matters.

Showing these two kids a good time before they are forced to kill each other.

_I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad_

_I got sunshine in a bag_

_I'm useless, but not for long_

_My future is coming on_

_It's coming on_

_It's coming on _

_It's coming on_

_My future..._

**A/N: Wow...it would appear my last chapter was not as short as I thought it was. It was exactly tied for first place with my second chapter. This one, however, truly is shorter than I liked it to be and I apologize, but hey, two chapters in one day is pretty good for me. Special thanks to lastsacrifice and once again, samiesimpson1 for use of their tributes, I really like these two, despite the lack of depth to the chapter. There is a reason for it, at least in my head. I don't see much going on behind the eyes of escorts that aren't Effie. ;) **


	9. Bring Out Your Brutes and Bullies

**Chapter Eight – Bring Out Your Brutes and Bullies**

_I wake up laughing, thrown from a nightmare _

_I come down standing when I'm tossed in the air_

_Bright as Tijuana _

_Like a dose of Belladonna_

_I could cry but I don't wanna_

_And the dream's lost on me_

**Elm Brickleberry – The Mayor of District Seven**

For the most part, I love my district. Honestly, I do. We aren't pets of the Capitol, parading around like trained animals, waiting for a handout and on the opposite side of the coin, our citizens aren't turning starvation into an art form, like some of the other districts. We really are the mid-point of Panem, the ones that are mostly overlooked and we tend to like it that way. Then again, being the forgotten middle child of this nation is all we've ever truly known. It's both a gift and a curse, really. While we don't have people like President Hollis breathing down our necks, we are stuck with the stigma of being large, burly lumberjacks and nothing else and that couldn't be further from the truth. For the most part, we are average, hard-working people.

Then again, there are some exceptions to that rule. Exceptions that made something like the Quarter Quell just a little easier than you would think it would be. It is hard for me to get through my yearly speech without so much as a smile or wink to my precious daughter, Kimber. She is utter perfection in my eyes, yet there are some that have tried to change that. But thanks to President Hollis and his rule change, it was a problem easily rectified.

"In penance for our uprising, each District shall offer up one male and one female between the ages of twelve and eighteen at a public Reaping. These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol and then transferred to a public arena, where they shall fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forever, this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games."

The crowd is silent, which doesn't bother me. This is my least favorite thing to do as mayor and every year, I break out in hives at the thought of performing in the Capitol's little dog and pony show. The thought that I am partially responsible for sending two children to die for the "honor" of representing the Lumber District sickens me to no end. It is disgraceful; punishing innocent children for the sins of their fathers is barbaric and makes my stomach burn with hatred. I almost hate those responsible for rebelling to begin with; if it wasn't for them, we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with. Nothing good came from rebelling and hopefully, we can resolve things like The Hunger Games and be free of the Capitol without losing any more innocent lives. I just hope it is in my lifetime that this happens.

"Without further adieu, here is Timber Wallis, our NEW Capitol Escort."

My ears nearly bleed from the squeal that escapes the lips of the entity that came to us this year, as the escort we have had for as long as I've been mayor, Mrs. Fritz, died from a tragic poisoning/drowning in the shower accident after voicing great discern for the pair of twelve year old's Reaped last year that would suffer horrid deaths at the hands of the pair from District Two during the opening Bloodbath. But alas, that is neither here nor there anymore, and we are stuck with the _woman _named Timber.

Goodness...she looks like a damn pine tree!

"This is my first year as Escort AND it's a Quarter Quell...well I guess that just makes me the bees knees, doesn't it?" She shook the stuffed Tracker Jacker hive that hung from the sleeve of her dress. No one laughed. "Well now, let us get to what we have all gathered together for...the Reaping. Now, for the ladies we have chosen..."

Timber's dress was as stiff as the bark on a Redwood and left limited movement available. As a matter of fact, she couldn't move her arms down at all, making picking the single name in the bowl difficult. More than a few children in the audience started to giggle, which turned into full on hysterics when she knocked over the bowl. I, too, laughed as Oliver Mumford, winner of the 14th Annual Games, had to fix the bowl and and hand her the name inside. It took a few moments before the crowd was calm enough to hear the first name chosen.

"I really didn't think this outfit through," she gushed, as if it wasn't the understatement of the year. "And our female tribute this year is- SERENA STEELY!"

The sea of seventeen year old girls parted, revealing Serena, a girl from my daughter's class, a look of pure shock and betrayal spread across her face. My knowledge of her is limited, but if memory serves me correctly, she was a loner, cast aside by the other girls because of her violent temper. By the time she reached the stage, her face changed, almost as if she had come to an understanding of what must be done.

"What a lovely young lady you are, Serena. Look, we are almost matching!" Serena rolled her eyes at the possibility of her green skirt and white shirt looking anything like the monstrosity Timber put on her body. "And now, for the boy." The comedy of errors continued as she tried to reach into reach into the second bowl.

Surprisingly, it wasn't hard to get the district to agree to pick the boy; there wasn't a single child that hadn't felt the wrath of his bullying ways, no girl that hadn't been used by him. Even my own children weren't immune to the little bastard. Kimber fell for his charms this past summer, only for him to get physical with her over a disagreement and even deflowering my little princess before breaking her heart and leaving her. And Lydon, my only son. His arm has not been the same since that monster broke it just a few months ago.

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer.

"Just announce John Twig already!"

The crowd's gasp was in complete unison and I regretted my outburst immediately. Luckily, Timber falling backwards after finally getting the paper broke the tension.

"How did you know it was John Twig?" She asked, her innocence was almost amusing. "JOHN TWIG, you have been selected by your district."

My face lit up as he made his way towards the stage, until I realized that didn't even bother to dress up for Reaping Day. His hair was in its usual spikes, his lips curled in anger. His curses and angry words carried through the crowd until he stopped dead at the twelve year old section.

"Hey Pan...just so you know, I voted for you. I wish you were headed into that Arena instead of her!"

District Seven is going to be the laughing stock of Panem this year.

_Something takes a part of me_

_You and I were meant to be_

_A cheap f*** for me to lay_

_Something takes a part of me_

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I haven't forgotten about my loyal readers, but I work in retail, so the weeks before Christmas mean extra hours and those hours that I am not working are spent with my kids. Thank you guys so much for your patience, your loyalty, and, most importantly, your reviews. Special thanks go out to Finnicklovr4ever and Richards25 for the use of their amazing characters. **


	10. Rebels and Jinxes

**Chapter Nine – Rebels and Jinxes **

_If I'm a bad person, you don't like me_

_Well I guess I'll make my own way_

_It's a circle_

_A mean cycle_

_I can't excite you anymore_

**Indigo Memphis – District Elder – District Eight**

I remember a time before Reapings and Hunger Games, before Dark Days and Rebellions. Yes, there was a time when the Districts were united as one, each its own self-sustaining state, while the Capitol merely watched over us, like a parent would over their children. My body may be brittle, but my mind is like a steel trap of knowledge and I remember everything.

Sometimes I wonder why I am allowed to live, knowing all that I know.

At seventy-three and one rebellion down, I thought I had lived through the worst of the Capitol could through at us. Deadly mutations, traitors in our own districts, and death tolls in the hundreds on both sides. But those deaths were of adults, adults that chose to rise up a tyrant that got too greedy, two big for its britches. I suffered a loss, too, my only son, Oz. I would suffer again, as his oldest child was forced to pay for his and our crimes, a punishment most severe. My sweet little Melody, she was Reaped into the first-ever Hunger Games.

The games, they broke her, psychically and mentally. She slaughtered two children, both much younger than herself, for the amusement of no one but President Hollis. It was all for nothing, as the boy from District Three, who watched as she savagely bludgeoned his partner with a log and seeked revenge. My agony wouldn't end there, as Melody's siblings and cousins would each end up Reaped by at least age sixteen, forced to fall because my son had lead the uprising in the textile district. In all, ten out of twelve of my own grandchildren would fall over the past twenty-four years, each one dying more brutally than the last. Only little Victory made it past eighteen, the youngest of Oz's children, only to be murdered by Peacekeepers over a misunderstanding, but obviously it was because she escaped the clutches of the games.

While our glorious mayor feigned interest in reading us the list of things we, as citizens of Panem, have done wrong, my only remaining grandchild stared at me, his one remaining eye vacant of emotion. Remy Larkin, my daughter Cassandra's only son, survived the third annual Games by hiding under a pile of leaves for nearly two weeks, living off of bugs, bark, and rainwater. We all watched on baited breath as he was eventually found by the Mayor of District 12's son, who came at him with a hatchet. It was a brutal showdown to say the least, and Remy's left eye and stomach took the brunt of Lysander's hatchet, but what he hadn't known was that our own District pulled together and sent Remy a vile of antibiotics to combat the infection that invaded his body through the vile water he was forced to drink to stay alive. Remy opened the vile and flung it at Lysander's eye, blinding him enough for Remy to overpower him and slit his throat with his own weapon. Even though he only had one kill under his belt, he lost it, slamming his fists into the trees until the hovercrafts came and drug him out of the arena, kicking and screaming. Some days I believe he never truly left that place, that in his mind, Remy is always hiding under those wet leaves, waiting to die.

Our eye contact broke as our escort, Trigram Davenport, called out the first name we, as a District, chose to die for our sins.

"SILVER REBEL!"

Out of the fifteen year old section came a bitter looking girl with hair so blonde that it matched her name perfectly. With her raggedy white dress and black boots, you could tell she must be an orphan, forced out on the streets of a District that couldn't be bothered with the likes of her. It was a shame, really, as one could tell that she was picked because no one would miss her when she doesn't make it back. The poor little darling, I at least, will root for her.

"Hello, Miss Rebel, and may I say, you have the most wondrous eyes. I think I shall get contacts that match yours once we get back home." She pinched Silver's cheek, who looked embarrassed by all of the attention, then made her way towards the boy's bowl. "Joining us is WALTER TATE!"

At the mention of his name, everyone in the square, including myself, made a cross over our hearts and held our breath. While District Eight isn't one known for being superstitious, this one child has forced us to change our beliefs. Whenever things go wrong, from something as simple as a child's broken limb to factory fires and the drowning death of his own mother and brother, Walter Tate has been there, his pale face void, lifeless. While he himself is never involved in these accidents, and certainly wasn't responsible for the deaths of his sibling and mother, just the fact that all of these accidents and more happen whenever he is around has caused him to be viewed as curse laid upon us for our role in the rebellion.

As quiet as a mouse, little Walter made the short trip from the twelve year old section and onto the stage, were everyone back away from him. Everyone, except Trigram, who went right to him and tussled his wispy brown hair.

"Look at you, you little cutie. I bet you are going to break some Capitol hearts this year, aren't you?"

"THAT'S NOT ALL HE'S GOING TO BREAK!" Someone yelled from the crowd, causing an uproar of laughter.

"Don't listen to him, little darling. I'll watch over you." With that, she pulled him in for a hug, only to have her burgundy dress rip down the back. "OH MY!"

The laughter died and once again we all found ourselves crossing our hearts. As terrible as I felt for voting for such an adorable, sweet little child that has done nothing wrong, I couldn't help but feel better now that the Curse of District Eight has been lifted. Here's hoping the curse doesn't follow Silver as she attempts to make it home.

_Baby, do you understand me now_

_Sometimes I feel a little mad_

_But don't you know that no one alive_

_Can always be an angel_

_When things go wrong I seem to be bad_

_But I'm just a soul who intentions are good_

_Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood._

**A/N: Thanks for all of those who have stuck behind this story and keep reviewing chapter after chapter. I know I say this every time I do one of these, but it really does mean a lot to me that you guys like this story as much as you do. I would also like to shout out to fanfic writer, Aimmyarrowshigh, whose story, "Twenty Four Victors, Twenty Four Tributes" gave me the idea of doing Indigo as an old man who was alive before the Games began. If you haven't read that story, do so now. It's amazing and a quick read (only 4,785 words). It really gives a new perspective to the tributes that went into the 75****th**** Games, especially Cecelia, one of my favorites. Also, as always, I'd like to thank Ninja Kitty 101 and Quiet-Little-Wallflower for the use of their tributes. I really liked these guys. **


	11. Suffer The Little Children

**Chapter Ten – Suffer The Little Children**

_I know a place where no one's lost,_

_I know a place where no one cries_

_Crying at all is not allowed,_

_Not in my castle on a cloud_

**Chasity Morgan – Mother of little Sophie Morgan – District Nine**

I couldn't bring myself to tell my daughter the truth. For once, I wanted her to have a good night, one free of nightmares of her own demise. We all know that this is, in it's own way, for the best, but I can't help but feel sick to my core about it. After all, I am her mother. I am supposed to protect her from all that is out to get her in this insane world we are forced to live in, but if I can't protect her from the disease that is slowly, but surely killing her, I may as well end her suffering. It's the very least I can do for my only child. But then, who will be there to end my suffering when the time comes?

My heart breaks as I dress her in a simple white dress, the same dress that I once wore to my first Reaping. Unlike my daughter, it had brought me luck and I made it through all seven of my Reapings, while she will be forced into her very first one. She smiles at me as I straighten her dress out.

"Don't be sad, Mama."

A lump wells up in my throat. "I'm not sad, baby. I'm just scared for you, that's all."

"Because District Nine has to chose their tributes?" Her brown eyes are large and questioning, like that of a kitten. "Don't worry about me, Mama. The people in town always smile at me and give me sweets. I doubt they will choose me."

Oh, my poor angel. If only she knew.

We finish getting ready in silence, it is the only way I could make it through the rest of the day without breaking down. I can't help but feel like the worst parent in all of Panem, even worse than those parents that allow their sons and daughters to train for the right to enter the games. At least their children stand a fighting chance, while my little girl is ripe for the slaughter and will be gone within moments of the Bloodbath, I just know it. At least then, she may not suffer. At least another family in District Nine can hold their daughter a little closer tonight, knowing she will be safe for another year to come.

The town square is packing, slowly but surely, and I quickly whisk my daughter to the Peacekeepers in charge of collecting the blood and information on each child of the Grain District. After her finger is pricked, she holds it up for me to see and smiles away.

"That didn't hurt, Mama. The doctors do way worse things to me."

I fake a smile back to her. "I'll see you when the Reaping is over. I love you, my little sun and stars."

"I love you too, Mama."

Tears flow as I watch the only thing I have remaining in my life walk to her certain death with a smile spread across her face. It takes everything in me not to run for her, to snatch her away and keep her all to myself. She is my light, my angel, my reason for being. And now, she will be gone from my world forever, remember as just another casualty of the Games. She turns and waves one last time and I blow her a kiss before she is lost among the other twelve year old girls, lost to me forever.

A neighbor grabs me and leads me to where the other adults are waiting. She allows me to sob on her shoulder as the ceremony is underway. Everything around me is background noise and my mind only centers on her, just as it always does. Her father left us after she was first discovered to be so sickly that we should give up on her. Instead, he gave up on us and left the burden of raising a sick and dying child squarely on my shoulders, but I couldn't have cared less. She was my miracle child, the one the doctors swore I would never have, and I refused to give up on her. But as the years drifted on and the bills piled up, she only became worse and worse and finally, I knew I had start preparing for the worst. And then, the Quarter Quell was announced and the same neighbor that allowed me to soak her dress gave us all the idea of sending her into the Games.

"Would you rather her suffer slowly here at home, or have the chance to die quickly in the place of another District Nine child?"

And so, her name was sent into Games and my life and soul went with it. I am a shell now; a non-person. Without her in my life, I have nothing.

"SOPHIE MORGAN!"

And there she goes. I watch as she beings to panic and is carried on stage by a Peacekeeper, one I recognize as Dixon, the man that always has some candy to brighten Sophie's smile with on our way home from her doctor's visits. Even behind the mask, I can tell he is crying. No one in the District utters a word.

"MAMA! NO, MAMA!"

She beings to hyperventilate, which throws her into a full-on coughing fit. Right before my eyes, my only child collapses on stage.

"NO!" The crowd parts for me as I try to rush my way to the stage. "MY BABY! YOU CAN'T TAKE MY BABY FROM ME!"

The last thing I remember is the butt of a Peacekeeper's stun gun connecting with my face and the world around me spinning out of control.

When I came to, I learned that the boy chosen to be her district partner was none other than Thaddeus Smith, the sixteen year old boy that felt the need to bash President Hollis whenever possible, no matter what the consequences. His parents and grandparents had been in the Rebellion and his grandfather was even executed for his role in the uprisings. This only seemed to fuel his need to speak out against the Capitol and I guess this was everyone's way of shutting him up and keeping the Peacekeepers off our backs. At least I knew it wasn't a lunatic that would slaughter my poor angel in her sleep before they even reached the Games.

No one expected anything less to come of me when they found my body hanging from rafters of my modest house. They already knew I was dead inside when I agreed to let them chose my little Sophie. I just hope that my spirit will find a way to be with hers, when I make it to the other side...

_I am an arms dealer_

_Fitting you with weapons in the form of words_

_And don't really care, which side wins_

_Long as the room keeps singing _

_That's just the business I'm in..._

**A/N: This was a lot harder to write than you would expect it to be and I felt the need to change it up a bit. As a mother, I thought about how I would feel if I had to knowingly let my baby girl go into the games, even if she was slowly suffering here at home. I know for a fact that my life would end the way Chasity's did. Also, I'd like to apologize if this is depressing as all hell, I promise to make District Ten's less dark. Thanks, as always, to my loyal readers and to Richards25 and Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg for the use of their tributes. Only three Reapings left before we get to the meat and potatoes of the story and I being the selections for Bloodbath victims. **


	12. Son of a Butcher, Daughter of a Whore

**Chapter Eleven – Son of a Butcher, Daughter of a Whore**

_\Hold my hand_

_Ooh baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river_

_Hold my hand,_

_Ooh baby, it's a long way down, a long way down_

**Cyril Calhoun – Mayor's First Born Son – District 10**

This is all my fault. If she is picked, I know this will be all my fault.

From my vantage point on the stage next to my father, I see her staring at me, her storm-gray eyes making me melt into my shoes. It takes everything in me to look away, because I know that deep down, she will be picked today. Mollie-Sue made sure of it and whatever Mollie-Sue wants, Mollie-Sue gets. And what she wants...is me.

In the eighteen year old section, a pair of eyes never leave my body and a smile never leaves her face. The daughter of the wealthiest man in District Ten, Mollie-Sue never had to worry about taking tessera or being picked. Even if she was picked, her father would have paid someone to take her place in the games, being the rich bastard that he is. A girl like Mollie-Sue is above all the rest of us, even the Mayor's son. But she isn't above Sosannah Night.

The propo begins, remind us of why we've been made to face this year after year. The Dark Days...the Rebellion...the War that eliminated District Thirteen and created the Hunger Games. I've lost too many people to these games; my oldest sister, my best friend Willy, even a few cousins. Everyone in District Ten feels that way; despite the size of our District, we all know someone that lost their life to the games. And now, I might have another name to add to that list.

"War. Terrible War. Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land..."

Right. Because we children did all of that. No, it was our fathers and mothers and grandparents. And yet, we have to suffer for what they did.

"Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained..."

I stopped paying attention after that. It's the same film I have seen for the past nineteen years of my life, so, like everyone else, I have the damn thing memorized. Maybe when we get a new President, we'll get a new film, or at least a less depressing-sounding President to speak over it. That might just work for me. Just a few feet away from me, District Ten's long-standing escort, Van Something-or-other, stood near the microphone, saying the words to the film allowed and grins like an idiot when it is over. At least SOMEONE gets a kick out of it.

"Boy, does that get me going!" Part of me thinks he's not kidding. "Now, to see the young woman will be representing District Ten in the First-Ever Quarter Quell!"

I hold my breath, hoping against hope that Mollie-Sue was a better person than I give her credit for.

"SOSANNAH NIGHT!"

And...she isn't.

Sosannah doesn't move from the fifteen year old section, her chocolate-brown eyes just get wider and wider. A few people snicker, mumbling under their breath about her. I can feel my fists ball up and my blood boils; I just want to strike them all down one by one. Finally, the Peacekeepers ascend on her and drag her out of her section and towards the stage. Once there, she lets loose.

"You voted for me? Because SHE told you to? You are all COWARDS!" Still they mumbled, only now it grew louder. You can hear the snickering about her mother's 'job' and how she was just like the woman. She grabbed the mic from Van and gave the people that voted for her another piece of her mind. "If my mother's the whore, what does that make all of you men that paid to sleep with her? Even your Daddy's been there, Mollie-Sue!"

The crowd is hushed. Well, everyone was hushed, except for Mollie-Sue.

"You are just jealous-"

"Obviously, I'm not the jealous one. If I was, YOU'D be the one on this stage."

Van stepped in between Sosannah and the edge of the stage, blocking her view of Mollie-Sue, who was on the verge of tears. Thankfully, he hadn't blocked my view and I found myself grinning like a cat. "Ladies, ladies, please. We still have the male tribute to pick out."

Sosannah backed up and stood by Bubbah Perkins, the first and only male winner of District Ten, while Van made his way towards the other bowl. Within moments, we had our selection.

"ASH CASTELLAN!"

Right off the back, I know why they picked him. Son of the local butcher, he knew his way around a knife and was used to blood and gore. However, there is a big difference between the meat of an animal and the meat of another human being. Strange as it sounds coming from a District Ten boy, I'm a vegan, so both seem wrong to me. But I've known Ash for a long time now and he isn't usually the type you would slaughter other children just to make it home. There are others that we should have sent in, others that DESERVED to go in, yet, we sent in one because we could and another because he might be immune to it all. There was nothing fair about the Quarter Quell, nothing at all. Then again, there is nothing fair about The Hunger Games.

When I visit Sosannah in the back, I tell her to run from the Cornucopia. Run as fast as she could and I would do the rest. Even if I had to drain every account my father had, I would use everything in my power to bring her back home. She looked up at me with a vacant look on her face and I knew right then and there that she gave up already. It broke my heart to see her this tense.

I asked Ash to watch out for her. To get her out of the Bloodbath and I would do the rest. I let him know that I would reward him greatly in the arena as well. However, he is already gone to us.

"Why save the whore when you've already damned me?"

_'Cause he's oh so good_

_And he's oh so fine_

_And he's oh so healthy_

_In his body and his mind_

_He's a well-respected man about town_

_Doing the best things so conservatively _

**A/N: Two more to go, folks! I am so sorry to those of you I made cry with my last story, I honestly didn't think anyone but myself would have gotten that upset over it. And thanks to everyone reviewing and following, especially new reviewer, Lucky4Morgan. Thanks, as always, to my tribute suppliers, Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg and MidnightRaven323. I also hope everyone had a safe and happy holiday and new year. Mine was pretty swell! **


	13. First Year Blues

**Chapter Twelve – First Year Blues**

_Thunder rumbling_

_Castles crumbling_

_I am trying to hold on_

_God knows that I tried_

_Seeing the bright side _

_But I'm not blind anymore..._

**Zion Somerset – Winner of the 24****th**** Annual Hunger Games – District Eleven **

There are times, usually in high stress situations and in the dead of night, when I feel like I am back in the arena. With a game session score of a solid nine and a declined invitation to join the Careers, I had painted a rather large target on my back. To this day, almost a full year later, I can feel their breath on my neck, hear their taunts in my ear, see their deaths in my nightmares. I am the first District Eleven victor since these games began, so I have no one to ask if these things are normal. If sleeping with a scythe under my pillow is something that every victor does from time to time. Maybe this year, I'll find out.

Loud noises set me off, which is why I nearly jump out of my skin when the microphone pops due to feedback.

Eternity Golden, our new escort given to us because of my victory, taps on the microphone and giggles, her Capitol accent thick and annoyingly chipper. She was sent up from District Twelve, because our escort and her older sister, Symphony Golden, was moved right up to District One this year. For an escort, she is rather plain looking, especially when compared to her sibling. With her pink puffy hair and matching floor-length dress, she looked like she step out of a time long before the Dark Days. Maybe that's what in at the Capitol these days. She glanced back at me with her only abnormal part, her dyed pink eyes, and smiled knowingly at me, as if she knew what was going on in my head. Most days, I'm not even sure what's going on in my head. How the hell could she know?

Since my time in the Capitol, nothing much has changed here in District Eleven. Sure, more supplies and food came our way since I won and we were given a new escort, but life continued on in the same poverty and oppressed way that it always has. At the end of the day, my win changed nothing for the people around here. Sure, I try to spread my money around to those that need it, but we District Eleven folk are proud people and except charity from no one. Not even those that were once just like them; orphaned, alone, working long hours day after day in the fields, and dodging Peacekeepers. The only difference between me and them are money and the things that keep me up at night.

I try to keep my mind occupied during the Treaty of Treason, wondering who our District voted for me to mentor. Silently, I pray that it is someone I can bring home, someone I can share this burden with, that would understand why I am the way that I am now. I don't think I could handle it if someone I mentor didn't come home, it would drive me mad. It is bad enough I see the faces of those that died at my hands or because of me. Gemma, from District One...the girl whose screams wake me up in the middle of the night, her body mutilated by hummingbird mutations that pecked her to death slowly, insuring my win. I still feel Lucilla Onyx's eyes glaring me down when I pierced her lungs with my spear, especially now when so many others are staring at me. I don't want to see the faces of my dead tributes, to hear their screams invade my skull, to know that their deaths are my fault.

As my mind raced with all of these thoughts and more, I missed Eternity saunter up to the first bowl, the girl's bowl and pluck the name District Eleven's choice for tribute.

"TERRA FINCH!"

I prayed that it was someone I could work with, someone I could get passed the Bloodbath and bring home. All hopes were dashed when the Peacekeepers drug a thirteen year old girl to the stage, dirtying her white, expensive dress and causing her to sob loudly. I recognized her at once as the daughter of my former boss, a mean old bastard that worked the children of District Eleven nearly to death while doting on his darling daughter. Of course, she was chosen as payback to the man responsible for many and child's death in the fields.

"...but you PROMISED!" Little Terra screamed, obviously directed at her father, who did nothing from the crowd.

For once, I thought District Eleven was better than this. As much as I hated that man while working fifteen hour shifts in those fields for little money, I could never toss his daughter to the wolves that way. At the end of the day, it isn't her fault that her father is like that, that she has everything while the rest go without. Why punish her for her father's crimes? In what realm is that considered justice?

Silently, I made a promise to try to do everything I could to bring her home.

Eternity tussled Terra's dark, bushy hair, before moving over to the boy's bowl. If Terra is any indication of who is going to be reaped next, I shutter at the thought of another young, innocent child going next.

"TEDDY PORTERHOUSE!"

No. This is insanity! His screams pierce through the silence, cries that would not be soothed. Peacekeepers descend on his, pushing the rest of the seventeen year old boys out of their way as they drag him to the stage and stand by his side. There was something wrong with all of this, Teddy couldn't harm a fly, he didn't have the mental capacity to understand what was going on here. Without his little brother Stanley to help him, Teddy was as good as gone. There was no way I could possibly spin any of this into some sort of positive...there was no way I was going to be able to bring either of them home. Why? Why would they pick the worst possible tributes the year after I brought home a victory? I broke barriers for outer Districts and proved that we can come back too, so why shit all over everything I just did and send me two people I can't possibly return home with?

Eternity tries to force them to shake hands, but when she notices that Teddy doesn't like to be touched, she shrugs her shoulders and leads them towards the Justice Building. I stare out at my District, the very people I gave everything to come home to and sighed.

"I hope you are all happy with yourselves."

There will be no each grain this year. There will be no more victors to share this burden. I am all alone in this.

There is a special place in hell for people that Reap the innocent. District Eleven is no better than the Capitol in my eyes...

_Be a simple kind of man_

_Be a something you love and understand_

_Baby be a simple kind of man_

_Oh won't you do this for me son if you can_

**A/N: One more to go! Yippee! Thanks again to all of you followers, readers, and reviews, much love and respect to you guys. And thanks to Richards25 and Quiet-Little-Wallflower for the use of their tributes. Once I get the last Reapings up, I am going to try to make a poll to see who you guys think should be taken out in the Bloodbath. I have a few ideas as to whom is dying first, but I'd like to see what you guys think before I up and kill people off. **


	14. We Are the Judges of Angels

**Chapter Thirteen – We Are the Judges of Angels**

_Half the population's just waiting to see me fail_

_Yeah right, you're better off trying to freeze hell_

_Some of us do it for the females_

_And others do it for the retail_

_But I do it for the kids life threw the towel in on_

_Every time you fall it's only making your chin strong_

**Falstaff Lear – Peacekeeper of District Twelve – District Twelve **

While I hail from District Two, I have managed to spend most of my adult life here in District Twelve. Most people would find that to be rather...unpleasant...I don't mind it here one bit. Sure, I miss the perks of District Two living; the lack of coal dust, less people turning starving to death into a marketable job skill, the ladies, but there is just something about this place that I rather love. Yes, I do realize how strange it is for someone like myself to stay in a place like this of my own accord, but I guess I am just a strange kind of guy. I mean, you have to be strange in order to do my job.

It is my love for this district that makes what is happening now that much more difficult. Unlike the rest of the districts, we already know the young man going into the games, long before new escort Holiday Reynolds took her large frame over towards the male Reaping bowl and plucked his name from out, thus ending his young life. I knew the boy personally; hell, I bought the squirrels he hunted illegally off of him at a higher price that I would in the Hob, only because I knew he had a family resting on his shoulders. It was too much responsibility for a fourteen year old kid and I felt bad for them.

I know, another strange thing coming from a Panem Peacekeeper.

Over the course of the last year, more and more District Twelve citizens have ventured into the woods, trying to save their starving families and this rose suspicions on where the meat was coming from. This lead to stricter Peacekeepers being sent in from my home district and harsher penalties for those caught poaching. Whippings became the norm, which slowly lead to less people entering the restricted area and more deaths from starvation. But the boy...he still hunted. He knew that if he didn't, his family would be just another statistic. Just another family to bury.

But he got cocky. He entered the woods more and more and while I was willing to overlook it; hell, I bought from the kid, the other Peacekeepers would not. This lead to Hazlitt, the new head of the Peacekeepers, to make it his mission to catch the little bastard of the Seam and make sure he never enters those woods again.

And caught him, he did.

Hazlitt gave the district and option: See the boy whipped to death for his crimes or send him into the games and see if he can come back a changed boy. Either one was a death sentence, since never before in the history of the Hunger Games has a District Twelve child returned in something other than a pine box, and the town voted to send him in and spare him the rod. To them, it was the best of a terrible situation. Now, four more children in the Seam will slowly join the others that have starved before them, thus continuing a vicious cycle.

And then, there was a the girl.

We all knew the Mayor's little girl, the adorable, but troubled little imp with the bruises that never seem to have the chance to disappear before another takes its place. Drury Blaize was a miserable man, who spent most of his life with a bottle of clear liquor in one hand and his wife's hair in the other. Because he was able to keep his district in line, his sadistic ways were kept under wraps and his crimes hushed away. His wife, Adelaide, bless her heart, couldn't take his lies and abuse any longer and ended her life by hanging herself from the large tree outside of his house, leaving behind the blonde haired, blue eyed angel that had done nothing wrong in life.

Nalin Briar and Sadie-Marie Blaize. Two lives that barely had a chance to live, now pawns for the Capitol to play with.

Their stories are tragic and yet, not much different that others in Panem. Maybe that's why I wasn't shocked when I found the reason why our glorious Mayor was mysteriously absent at the Reapings, something against the rules set in place by President Hollis himself. Monsters, like those who volunteer for the games, are created, and in his own way, Drury Blaize create, his own little monster. And while we hated to have to do it, Sadie-Marie needed to be punished for her crime, much as Nalin had to be.

You can't just murder a Mayor and get away with it.

Holiday Reynolds does her best to hold down the fort, but her lack of experience and tact, for that matter, is making this process a lot more difficult than it has to be. She cries tears for a man she had never the luxury of meeting, the man we all knew made little Sadie-Marie's life hell for the past twelve years on this planet and drove his wife to suicide, all while turning his nose up at the poverty level most of his citizen's experience on a daily basis. Then, after turning her nose up the boy as he makes his way to the stage, she picks out the name of the blue-eyed angel and berates her for ending her own suffering, since none of us adults had the courage to do it for her. All together, this Reaping was a mess and more than likely, District Twelve would suffer the consequences of it.

I'd like to know how you can punish those who suffer the most...

_Dry lightning cracks across the skies_

_Those storm clouds gather in her eyes_

_Her daddy was a mean old mister_

_Mama was an angel in the ground_

_The weather man called for a twister_

_She prayed blow it down..._

**A/N: And that concludes the 25****th**** Annual Hunger Games Reapings! Wow...two months later and we are FINALLY at the meat and potatoes of the story. Thank you guys for coming along for the ride. Special thanks to Richards25 and one of my closest friends, Skittles, for the use of their tributes...I hope I did them justice, really. Personally, I am not happy with the way this Chapter turned out. When I originally ended it, it was much shorter than all the rest by at least a hundred or so words, and I felt like I had to add something to it, if only to make it fair. Now...I'm not happy. Oh well. I'd also like to note that Zion, winner of last years games, is actually a girl, not a boy. I am rather amused that she's a boy. **


	15. Goodbyes and Lives Cut Short

**Chapter Fourteen – Goodbyes and Lives Cut Short**

_I've been roaming around, I was looking down at all I see_

_Painted faces fill the places I can't reach_

_You know that I could use somebody_

_You know that I could use somebody_

_Someone like you and all you know and how you speak_

_Countless lovers under covers of the street_

**Eko Darson – 18 – D5**

Due to the nature of our Reapings and the actions of the crazed Avox, our goodbyes were cut short. Satchel barely had a chance to give her big brother one last hug and to press her favorite keepsake, a tiny turtle statue, into my hand before she was pried out of my arms, her cries echoing down the hall behind her. With her gone, she has no one left in the world. Without me in her life, who else will chase the monsters from her nightmares, sing the sadness from her eyes, rock her to sleep when she is more than fighting it.

Who else will tell her that she is loved?

Zena was met with a similar fate; barely a moment was given for her to make peace with her own little sister, a girl too small to understand the fate of her older sibling. Her mother's sobs blended softly into Satchel's and it broke my heart. This made me want to break down, to scream until my lungs gave out and smash every breakable item around me, but I know that there is no point to wasting the effort. No matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, once our name was chosen by our peers, that was it for us. Win, lose, or otherwise, we will all be dead, at least, in some fashion. When it comes to the Hunger Games, I don't believe there is ever a real winner. No matter what, you are still dead on the inside.

Case in point, our beloved victor, Eliza Powers, who survived her attack from the Avox, but now has retreated further into herself. The left side of her face is bruised from the attack, the blood has since been washed away. And yet, she refused to let them harm the man that attacked her; instead making an excuse to spare his life. Part of me doubts that they will listen to her, but as the sole victor from District Five, I'd like to think that her desires might just be met. If not, than why even bother to win at all?

"Now, now, look at the lot of you!" Miss Nightshade's voice was a mixture of a Capitol accent and something else that I just can't place. As if she was trying too hard to keep something under wraps. "Zena and Eko, Eko and Zena. District Five couldn't have picked a cute group to send my way."

I couldn't help but scoff. "Because THAT is something that is going to protect us in the Arena."

"Protect you, no. Probably not. But sponsors love an adorable pair." She touched the tip of my nose before turning and making her way towards the table of food that awaited us. "Come, come, my dah-lings, I have much to teach. First, we must FEAST!"

Eliza didn't join us for dinner, which was a real shame. For a kid like myself, growing up in a Capitol-sponsored orphanage, food like this isn't even something we could ever dream of having. Exotic soups that seem to have no bottom, fish that had to come all the way from District Four, meat. Real meat! I must have looked like a terrible sight as I piled the food onto my plate and dug in, but I couldn't really care less about Miss Nightshade's wide eyes glaring holes into me and Zena's polite little giggles at my table manners. Things like this don't exactly happen to a guy like myself and for once, I am letting myself have at it. My only wish at this moment was the Satchel was here to share in the meal, even if that meant being exposed to the horrors of the Arena. Instead, I looks across the table and find emerald eyes staring into my own brown ones, a simple smile attached to them.

"I know your sister, Satchel."A sad smile formed on my lips as she continued. "We went to school together...she was the only one nice to me back there. Once she even slapped a boy for knocking my books out of my hands."

I could almost feel my eyes lighting up at the thought of Satchel playing the protective roll, when it was usually the other way around when we were together.

"She spoke of you often, almost like you were her hero." Her eyes lowered. "You need to make it back, Eko. You have a lot more to lose."

These words, they couldn't come from a body so small; their meaning wise beyond the years of its provider. That was the moment when I knew what I must do. Much like my own sister, this little girl needs the chance to grow up and that is the least I can give her for being tossed into this mess. Zena would make sure Satchel lives a good life, free from the poverty of our everyday lives and with the memory that the games never changed her older brother. Maybe...just maybe...I could do this and still be my baby sister's hero.

Eliza cleared her throat so softly that I barely heard her do it, let alone enter the room."They are recapping the Reapings." Her voice was soft, timid even. Hardly what I expected to come from a woman that has survived the first games. "Come. You need to learn about the others that seek their own survival." And with that, she retreated back to her bruised and broken shell.

Just as I thought. Even if you slaughter a dozen or only one, the only real winner in these games is President Hollis.

**Williams Valentine-16-D2**

They replayed my Reaping over and over, my face hitting the dirt on repeat. With the exception of the District Seven debacle and the Avox attack in District Five, my act of clumsiness was all the rage. Crest Hill pondered if it was all for show, an attempt to look like less of a threat before I go full-on primal in the Arena, meanwhile I just wanted to die now and never return home. After all, that's what mother would want from me. My death would be icing the cake to my Reaping. I can even imagine her now; mortified at my actions, embarrassed over it. Part of me would love it see it again, while a whole other side of me hopes never to return to her. To her, I am nothing, a non-entity. A constant reminder of the man she murdered in cold blood and got away with.

"That could be a good angle for you, kid. If you can hold it together and get yourself a decent training score, then we might have a shot at getting you into the finales."

Savage Bronx was our first victor, the first to come out of the Training Centers we set up after the first five years of producing nothing but scared Bloodbath Tributes. After winning the eight games, he managed to bring home three other tributes, the Onyx Brothers, in the nineteenth and twenty-third games, as well as a girl named Tulla during the twenty-first games. Tulla and Julius, however, are both in terrible mental shape and seem unable to function in society, let alone mentor a couple of kids. Tulla is the worst of them all, however. Her suicide attempts are legendary and are more well-known than her actual time spent in the arena. She can't even be trusted during the Reapings, because the year after she came home, she threw herself head first off of the stage in an attempt to break her neck.

Audun snickered. "You seriously think this bag of shit is making it past the Bloodbath? I'd be surprised if he didn't trip on the platform and blow himself sky high!"

"To show a united front, you had better treat Williams with respect while in the Training Center. Having a guy like him around might be a lot more beneficial than you think."

Once again, Audun laughed. "Why, so I have someone to trip while being chased by a pack of raving mutts? Oh, thank you Williams, my dear. I'm sure they'll get more enjoyment out of eating your flesh than my own."

Once again, as if Crest Hill knew what we were discussing, he replayed my fall once again.

To Savage's credit, he didn't laugh at her, but he didn't defend me either. Instead, they both acted as if I wasn't there, talking strategy and whether or not the usual Career Alliance was in effect. It would appear that both of District One's tributes had formal training, as well as the girl from Four. The boy from Four, the one that the Mayor went after, also looked like he would know what he was doing, unlike me. Which just proves that there is no reason for me to even be here. Back at the Academy there HAD to be dozen's of eighteen year old guys that wanted this, that trained their whole lives to do this and I am here, just waiting around for it to be my turn to die. And to top it all off, every tribute is going to see my Reaping and think that I'm easy pickings. Even that District Eight kid, Walter something seems more intimidating than I am. If there was ever a chance for me to prove myself, training would be the time. I need to reach deep down and pull...something, anything up and make it work for me. If not, I'll be the first District Two tribute in twenty years to die during the Bloodbath and I certainly don't want that to happen. I want to prove to everyone that I am worth something, that I am more than just the son of that bitch of a woman, and more than a fatherless boy. Somehow...someway...I have got to prove that I am more than just fodder out in the Arena.

My life depends on it.

**Terra Finch-13-D11**

My daddy promised me that it would all be ok, that my name would only be in the Reaping bowl twice. He swore to me that there was no way I'd ever go into the games. What he didn't promise was that the people that worked for him would actually use my life to get back at him and the way he treated them. Kind of like how the Capitol uses the games to get back at those who Rebelled long before I was born. How fair is that? How fair is any of this?

I fiddle with the bottom of my dirty white dress, while stealing glances at Teddy, who sits at the window, gawking at everything that is going by too fast for his eyes to register. Every now and then, he goes back to playing with his District token, a little toy dog that was missing paint in some places, but still seemed like the greatest thing in his eyes. I wish I could be like him; blissfully unaware of the fact that we will both be dead in just a week's time. Every now and then he would bark and giggle like a mad man, which was just made me want to cry. I was hoping that at least my District partner would be able to save me, but he'll be lucky to make it past the Bloodbath. He was nothing more than a simpleton, another ghost in the fields owned by my father. This is all his fault, people like him are angry at the way my father treats them, but in reality, at least they HAVE jobs. My father doesn't HAVE to employ those backwoods scum suckers, he could just let them starve to death in silence. But no, he gave them money from his pocket to tend to his fields and this is the thanks he gets?

Who am I kidding? This is all my father's fault and I know it. If he was just a bit nicer to them, gave them just a little bit more money for food, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe then I'd be able to grow up, raise a family of my own, and take over my father's business when he kicks the bucket. Lying, no good...man!

I pick at the soup that sits before me, spinach potato, a favorite of mine back home, but now it just so bland. Zion looked at me with a sympathetic look in her eye, one that I would have to grow accustom to. She knows that her first year of mentoring was going to end terribly, that neither of us are coming home. District Eleven was lucky enough to have someone like her win to begin with, it's not as if lightening was going to strike twice. I maybe young, but I'm not an idiot. Little kids like me are the first to die and I'll just have to hope and pray that the Careers forget about me while slaughtering the rest of the little lambs the Districts picked to represent them.

Finally, Zion breaks the ice. "So, do either of you guys have any hidden talents, any tricks that I can work with? Even if you think it's mundane and stupid, doesn't mean that it can't help. I never thought all those years starving in your father's fields and swinging a scythe would get me anywhere, but here I am. District Eleven's first, but not last, victor."

For some reason, I wanted to scream at her. I know she was trying to help, but she didn't have to dumb it down for us. While Teddy doesn't have the capacity to understand what is going on here, I do. I'm not a little kid...just please, someone, anyone.

Don't lie to me and tell me I have a chance at this thing. My death is already per-ordained.

**Sophie Morgan-12-D9**

Mama didn't come visit me in the Justice Center, only Dixon, the nice Peacekeeper that gives me candy whenever I see him. He gave me a bag of sweets to tide me over and a hug, reminding me to be a good girl while I was at the Capitol. Of course I'd be good, I'm always good. Out of all the kids that go to see the Doctor on the hill, I'm the only one that doesn't cry when they take my blood. My mama would hold my hand and afterward, I would get a cookie. How can you cry if cookies are involved?

Like right now. Dinner was amazing and while I was filled from all the goose legs and lamb stew and all the berries I could ever want to eat. Thaddeus barely touched any of his food, saying that he refused to let them fatten him up before sending him to the slaughter. Whatever that means. I'm just glad to have so much food and be offered desert as well. Now it was time for us to sit and see who else was going to be in the arena with us. I just hope there are other kids my age.

The ones that were picked from District One are big and scary, like the demons my mama would read to me about in my storybooks. And if they are demons, then the girl from District Two is the scariest one of all. The poor boy fell down and everyone laughed at him. The girl from Five is my age, so at least I have someone to talk to. Thaddeus only likes to talk about Rebellion and other things that scare me. There is also a cute little boy from Eight as well, so I won't be alone when we get to the Capitol. Maybe they'll let us have a sleepover party like when I turned twelve last week? I bet they are nice, like me.

"Sophie, Thaddeus, you guys are up now."

When my name was called, everyone looked so sad for me that it made tears form in my eyes just watching it. And then, I had another one of my coughing fits and fell down on stage and the camera turns to my mama, who rushed to get to the stage. Just when she is almost there, a Peacekeeper hit her in the face with the butt of his gun.

"MAMA!" I screamed, my mind going into a panic. My chest tightens up, breathing starts to get harder. "Miss Falcon, Miss Falcon, my mama..."

Wheatley Falcon won the games just nine years ago, when I was only three years old. They like to play her games on the Hunger Games off season, especially since her games was one of the first indoor games. It was set inside a replica of what used to be called Alcatraz, a big, scary prison for bad people. She made her way out of the prison by going through the sewer system and killing mutated rats with her hunting knife and once outside, she was safe until the Careers killed each other. She's a nice lady and not much younger than my mama. She pulled me into her chest and comforted me, calming me down until my breathing evened out again. Finally, she kissed the top of my forehead.

"I'm sure she's fine, Sophie. Your mama is a strong woman, I remember her from school." She smiled and played with my hair. "You just focus on getting through to the arena, alright?"

As I nodded and went to reply, Thaddeus interrupted me. "There's a girl from District Twelve that's about your size. Supposedly she murdered her father and they tossed her into the games as punishment. Wanna bet she becomes a psychopath once the games start up?" He scoffs. "What is wrong with The Capitol? You'd think that we would be done with this little 'lesson' of theirs by now. What are they going to do, let thousands of kids kill each other over the next hundred years?"

Mercury Trinket, our male escort, gasped! "Thaddeus Smith, that's terrible! If the Capitol hears you-"

"They'll what? Kill me? We are already dead, Trinket. Sophie, me, those little bastards from Five and Eight, the pretty girl from Ten...dead. We don't have a shot in winning this, this is just another joke of the Capitol. Wheatly wasn't supposed to win, she was a fluke, just like that girl last year and all the other outer-district wins. They want strapping Career children to win these things, to remind us that we are powerless and should just become Capitol lap-dogs like One and Two."

By now, I'm in tears, as is Mercury, who can't bare to hear such negativity thrown at the Capitol. Wheatley grabs me and pulls me in, trying to shield me from his words, but they hurt none the less. Only Thaddeus' mentor, and winner of the fourth games, Rye Martin, has enough sense to slap him in the mouth and shut him up. But by that point, the damage was already done. I swallowed hard and looked Wheatley dead in the face.

"Was I chosen...because I was going to die anyway?"

With tears in her eyes, she left the room. I guess that was all the answer I needed.

**Gold Kyopie-18-D1**

This year, no expense was left behind when designing our Chariot costumes. Precious gems are grafted onto our body, covering the top of our body and sewn into our hair. My pants are even covered in jewels, almost as if one of our many gem mines vomited all over them. Despite the obvious and cheesy take on our District's export, it wasn't half bad. I mean, it could be worse. A few Chariots over I can see a pair of Power Plant workers and trees. TREES! I mean, couldn't President Hollis get someone to make those poor kids from the Lumber District into something just a tad bit different? I can't believe I am thinking this, but I actually feel sorry for those two. Unless they can actually pull off a decent training score or interview, then they are beyond screwed.

To my right, the pair from Two are being helped into the last of their gladiator-inspired costumes (once again, how original) and I recognize the boy right away as the one that fell on his way to the stage after begging the crowd for the reason why he was Reaped. As of right now, our Districts are tied for the most victors and I am going to make it my mission to bring District One on top. There was no way this guy was going to get very far in these games, he's the laughing stock of Panem right now, no one would bother to waste their money on the likes of him. And his tiny, crazed looking partner? Let's just say I hope I never end up on her bad side. She looks as deranged as they come. Somehow she managed to sneak a knife of all things into the chariot and is cleaning her nails with it, all the while looking like she is trying to keep from stabbing it into the klutz's back. This has got to be the worst Career pack in history!

At least District Four seems like worthy alliance members. The gorgeous girl, with the sidebands and sea-colored eyes, looked like she spent her entire life waiting for this moment. Made to look like mer-people, she took the costume in stride and made it her own, gearing herself to play the crowd once these things got underway. Her partner, the one that they mayor of District Four tried to attack, looking over-confidant, an easy guy to manipulate and control. And with his looks and cocky attitude, he'll be sponsor gold. Maybe this Career Alliance isn't as bad off as I thought.

"Get yourself ready," my stylist, Hydrazine gushed, putting the last few touches of jewels into my hair. "They should be calling for the Chariots any second now."

Within moments, we were announced to the adoring crowd; our names chanted by all. My mother spoke of what an adrenaline rush the roar of the crowd was, but I didn't know it would be this intense! It was as if every, single Capitolite was placed in those seats just to see every inch of you, to know only you, and spend their hard-earned dollars making sure you and you alone came back home. As I waved, my name echoed around me, as if it was the only thing these people knew how to say. This is why I was born, this is why I am the child of a victor! Valkyrie might have been trained by her Uncle, the man that helped bring my mother home just a few years after he did, but even she could not being to have what I have with this crowd. If you think you can win these games on skill alone, you are crazy. The people of the Capitol pick the winners, not the tributes, no matter how well-trained you are. This is the moment to shine and then let the high training score and interview speak for themselves.

"They must really love you, Mama's boy!" Valkyrie laughed next to me, obvious hating the fact that I was gaining more attention than she was.

"That's because they know a winner when they see it."

And that seemed to keep her quiet. Honestly, I didn't care that she was jealous of the relationship I already seemed to have with the crowd. I also didn't let the fact that the psycho-mini from District Two was flipping me and anyone else stupid enough to look at her off phase me. Nothing could bring me down from this high right now and I just prayed that my mother saw me doing this and that she was proud of me. After all, it's up to me to keep the Kyopie name in the spotlight. Tanner might have taken that chance from me last year, but this time around it's Gold's turn and I am not going to waste it by going down to a District Three techno-nerd. Hell, I might even make friends with one of the kids from that District, just to stick it to Tanner's spirit. Serves him right for stealing my thunder, it was like sweet revenge watching him being electrified by the female sibling from District Three. Come to think of it, her last remaining brother is the here now. Maybe he'd make a fine ally after my Career alliance breaks apart? Must investigate further.

Honestly, if this is all the Hunger Games is, then I have this one in the bag.

**December Dawson-14-D6**

What in the hell are we supposed to be?

The bottom of our skirts (yes, it would seem that Grayson's bottom dressing is also a skirt of some sort), look like they are t spinning propeller blades but the mechanics weren't thought out well enough and they looked slow and pitiful. One could only guess that we are supposed to be hovercrafts, by sadly, they didn't put enough effort into it. Had we the same budget of, say, District One or even District Four, we could probably fly with these things. But now, District Six is one of the most over-looked District of all. They think we are nothing but morphling addicts and nutcases, but that isn't the case, as I am neither of those things. Grayson also seems to be the exception, only he is another stereotype: The offspring of rebels. The Wheelers were infamous back home, known for making themselves huge enemies of the Capitol and finding nearly every single one of their children in the arena at any given moment, only to have them fall. Poor guy, he has a lot riding on his shoulders.

Me? Well, I am just an ordinary District Six girl with ordinary anger-management issues. When my parents get it in their thick heads that I am not going to bend, even to them, they would kick me out for a few weeks and let me cool off, then open their arms back up to me. Lather, rinse, repeat. Always repeat. If it wasn't for my friend, Alyssa, I would have never made it this far. Not that it really mattered, since now I am on the grandest stage of all Panem, just waiting for my turn to die. No, not really. If I am going to go down, I am going down with fight and taking as many people with me as possible.

Next to me, Grayson wiggles uncomfortably. He is noticeably embarrassed, his usually pale cheeks are now flaming red and no one seems to care that we are part of this parade. And really, why should they? All of the good tributes are in the front, while the rest of us are stuck playing bit parts in their grand production. It's overly pathetic. Look at us, dressed as what could only be described as an overall hot mess, then we have the trees behind us, the microprocessors in the third Chariot and who knows what the rest are supposed to be. Then we have the Careers, done up in jewels and gladiator gear and even the mer-people costumes are cool. Maybe if I can manage to pull out a win, during the Quarter Quell of all times, people will want to be the designers for the lowly Districts.

Maybe. Just maybe.

Despite all of my negative Nancy talk, I was kind of enjoying this. Every once in awhile, in between hearing the masses fawn over the pretty girls from One and Four and cheering over brute from One, I could hear they shout my name. It might not be as loud as the others, or even as often, but it was something just for me and I was going to latch onto it as best as I can. Hell, even Grayson's name was being called. When it hit his ear, his face lit up like a light bulb and it was quite a sight.

"Do you think we have a chance at this?" He asked, as he blew a kiss to a young girl in the front row. "I mean, can we really give District Six a chance at another victor?"

All I could do was shrug my shoulders. "Who knows, really? This is the Quarter Quell and, without being too cliché, anything can happen. Hell, even that little tike from District Eight could pull a win out of his ass."

"No, he's going to lose to the oaf that tripped over air," he laughed, pointing to Williams' back. "Could you imagine that? I'd make a better Career than that guy."

"Yeah, but then you'd abandon me and that wouldn't look too good to the people back home," my voice coated in mock pain.

We looked the part of a team to those around us, a united front from the Morphling District. Well, stranger things have happened in these games, so why not?

**Ash Castellan-18-D10**

"How can they parade us around like we are nothing more than dogs to them?"

Next to me, Sosannah asked questions with obvious answers to no one in particular. Her cowgirl get-up looked nice enough; a rhinestone-studded jean skirt, pink flannel shirt, and outrageously loud cowgirl hat that wasn't very unlike something the rich girls would walk around wearing. But on her, it didn't seem like enough. Her large, round eyes stared up at me and glistened with tears and almost begged me to save her. Instead, I ignored her, opting to stare ahead and weed out the competition. After Cyril's offer to financially back me if I keep the whore's daughter safe for a little while, I couldn't help but keep my distance from her. Why should I risk everything just to get her home? As if her life was more valuable than my own, just because she's probably a good lay. Is that something we can add to my tombstone; Here lies Ash, he let the slutty girl go!

Behind us, the coal miners from District Twelve looked pathetic and small, not exactly the type I would initially see as a threat and the same went to the berry-covered pair from Eleven. In front of us, the little girl from Nine was made to look like an angel of the harvest and she waved her little heart out to the crowd, all while her partner looked on in disgust. One would guess his sullen personality helped to land him in this situation, since he certainly didn't look like much of a threat to anyone, not even his own partner. The trees from District Seven looked like a strong pair, like they would give all of us a real run for our money.

And then I saw her; the dark-haired beauty from District One. She looked bored with the parade, much like I was, and also like myself, she seemed to have enough of her District Partner. While he was busy soaking in the limelight, she kept the illusion of needing nothing and no one to survive this, that all she had to do was show everyone all that she knew once the gong sounded in the arena. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, which nearly ended with me toppling off of the Chariot when it came to a halting stop. Above us, the President himself stood at his podium, waiting to greet us into this year's games.

"Welcome! Welcome, tributes, to the first in what I can only assume, will be a long long line of Quarter Quells! We salute your courage and your sacrifice and welcome you all to the TWENTY-FIFTH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES!" Cheap crowd pop, if ever I heard one. "We wish you all a Happy Hunger Games and...may the odds be EVER in your FAVOR!"

And, just like that, we were ushered back over to the remake center, where we were more than happy to hand over the horrible costumes that these people from the Capitol think we must all be wearing. Like all of District Eight walks around in patchwork dresses and tuxes? I scanned the crowd looking for her once again, hoping against hope that I might be blessed enough to catch another glimpse of her, but instead, I caught her back end as she was pulled into the elevator by her mentor, Cassius Cairo. Bastard! Instead of having her face fill my soul with a bright, warming light, I am stuck helping Cyril's little fling get out of the Chariot and out of her cowgirl vest. I couldn't help but take my frustrations out on her and her vest, nearly ripping it off of her body before tossing it at her stylist.

"Ow, Ash, stop it!" Her eyes brimmed with tears and instantly, I felt like a complete and utter jerk. "Look, just because you are stuck here and just waiting around to die, doesn't mean you can take it out on me!"

Her hand was quick and her fingers left an sharp pain on my left cheek. My face flushed quickly, as everyone turned to stare at us. The tiny little girl from District Two fell to the floor laughing manically, as her partner watched on with a sympathetic gleam in his eyes. Even the little red-head from Three was having a good laugh at my expense. Maybe I deserve that, but hell, I'm only human. I guess I'll have to find a way to make it up to her...

All while getting to know Little Miss Ringleader from District One.

**Nalin Briar-14-D12**

The elevator doors opened to our penthouse suite and I couldn't believe my eyes. For a guy used to sharing a bedroom with all of his siblings AND his father, this was like nothing I could ever dream of. Off to the left was a large dinning area, complete with food already laid out and to the right was a sitting area, a television was already replaying the Chariot parade and was bigger than any wall in my house. I almost wished my siblings could be here, benefiting from all that is given to me. They, too, deserve to be in the lap of luxury, even if it is only for a little while.

While I gawked at our surroundings, Sadie-Marie walked past me and made a bee-line for the couch. Her face was a blank canvas, waiting for someone to pencil in some form of emotion, and it made me sad that someone could have possibly made her this way. Had she been left alone, to grow up a normal, happy girl, she would probably be the light of District Twelve. Instead, her father ruined any chance she had at happiness and her mother left her behind to suffer. I'm surprised that it took her as long as it did to kill her father. She was probably just waiting around for the straw to break her back, so to speak. Now, she was just a shell waiting to expire and me...I'm not much better. The same people that thought seeing her die in the games was just the right amount of punishment for an abused girl that found the courage to end her torment, thought it right to send in a boy who's only crime was trying to feed his family. Now, I have a death sentence and my family is left to slowly starve to death in The Seam. Justice, Panem style.

Our escort, Holiday Reynolds, came in behind me and forced me into the suite we three would be sharing for the next few days. She has done nothing but make poor Sadie-Marie's life even more miserable than it has to be, taking jabs at her for ending her piece of shit father's life and she had me at my wits end. Even now, she was shooting daggers in the little girl's direction, then mouthing to me about her being a psychopath. No, lady, YOU are the psychopath for crying over a man like our Mayor. Hopefully they are finding a suitable replacement while we are here, waiting to die.

"Well, now up here we have all the same luxuries as the other tributes do; a dinning hall, an entertainment room, and we each have our own bedrooms. You two have the rooms to your left, while I have the one across from you, Nalin. I don't trust having a room across from-" She notions towards Sadie-Marie, who hasn't even acknowledged the woman. "We each have an avox on call and they can get us anything your little hearts desire. After dinner, I advise you getting a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is your first day of training and a lot will be riding on that."

"I have a question." She nodded, allowing me to ask something that has been bothering me since the beginning. "I know that mentors usually go around and get sponsors for us and use the money to get us things in the arena." Once again, she nods. "Well, District Twelve has no victor, so we have no mentor, and hence, no one to do this for us. What's going to happen?"

"Well, Mr. Briar, that job is left up to yours truly." Wow. Not the answer I was looking for.

Dinner was painfully awkward, with Sadie-Marie not uttering a word and not bothering to fiddle with her food like she did on the train here and Holiday was staring at the girl, as if she was going to be attacked at any time. Soon, we were left to our own devices as Holiday retired to her room.

"I'm sorry that you have to be here." Sadie-Marie blinked at my words, as if letting me know that she understood what I was saying. "I mean, I'm sorry that no one ever stepped in to save you from your dad."

Tears peppered her eyes and soon streamed down her face. In one swift move, she lunged for me and wrapped her tiny, frail arms around my neck. She couldn't be much bigger than my nine year old brother Sage, yet she was the only one brave enough to end that tyrant's life. It was unbelievable to me. Yet, why shouldn't it make sense?

This is Panem and little should make sense in a place like this. It is all one giant riddle that needs to be taken apart and put back together.

_Broadway's dark tonight_

_A little bit weaker than it used to be_

_Broadway's dark tonight_

_See the young man sittin' in the old man's bar_

_Waitin' for his turn to die_

**A/N: Sorry that this took so long, but it's been a hard month for me. Lots of working and sick days; it's been a right mess. For those of you keeping score at home, take a look at my profile and you'll notice a nice change. Gone is the bio template for these games (now we no longer need it) and it is replaced with little tidbit facts for each tribute that will be filled in nearly completely by the time they are launched into my arena. Don't be discouraged if your tribute doesn't have allies yet, more than likely they will, I am just adding the obvious ones (The Careers, Zena and Eko) and will add the rest as they come up in the chapters. Also, I shall add the training scores when they are announced. And if you are keeping score at home, there were EIGHT P.O.V.s this chapter. Next one will have NINE (WOW!) and the last will have SEVEN. Then it will be the interviews, the goodbyes, and then the Games truly begin. I also have a neat poll on my profile as well, asking you to vote for whom you think should bite the big one during the Bloodbath. Just because someone has a ton of votes, doesn't mean they are dying in the BB, I just want your opinion. Of course, it would help me get some ideas as to whom should go first. **

**Please read, review, and suggest this to other readers. And, if I can be so greedy, keep an eye out for the story "Blood Split Is One More Life Lost" by iloverueforever. That is a 24 Authors' story that I am involved in, as are fellow tribute contributors, Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg and lastscarifice. I have control over both tributes from District 10, especially little Palomina Clearwater! **


	16. Will This Be On The Test?

**Chapter Fifteen – Will This Be On The Test? **

_Without any training,_

_It's pouring, it's raining_

_Training for a trade_

_Hey, you bet I'm afraid_

_Unequipped with a skill,_

_But I'm thrilled with the thrill_

_Underskilled, unprepared, _

_Hey, who wouldn't be scared?_

**Draiven Maxus - 18 - D4**

Compared to what our meals have been like since we first boarded the train to the Capitol, our breakfast of groosling eggs and mush-root soup seems rather meager and light. Unlike rich-boy sitting across from me, stuffing his face with anything in a two-foot radius, I am used to this. Breakfast back in the District Four Training Center are small, but high in protein to keep us going. If you eat something heavy and creamy, it either sinks to the bottom of your stomach like a stone or ends up staring back up at you from the Training Room floor. The last thing you want is to be sluggish or covered in vomit while training to save your skin during The Games. I even managed to lay off of the imported rolls from back home (oh the fish-shaped, seaweed-infused goodness), which garnered me strange looks from Pike.

"Watching your girlish figure, love?"

"Perhaps you enjoy puking your guts up in front of the other Careers only a few minutes into training, but I certainly do not."

He scoffed as he stuffed a delicious-looking roll into his big mouth. "Too bad. I love a girl with a little meat on her bones."

When I thought about my District partner and what kind of a man he would be, I imagined someone as serious about The Games as I was. Or, at the very least, someone who actually trained. Instead, I was given a mear boy that could undo my bra strap by looking at it and who's special talent is sleeping with half the district's female population, including Darla Coral's step-mother. He has yet to take any of this seriously, opting instead to make it a personal challenge to flirt with every female withing a one mile radius of himself, including his clueless stylist and Mags, whom I was more than happy to see put him in his place on the train.

Mags is a personal hero of mine. She was a proper Career, trained and ready to go by the time she volunteered for the games when she turned eighteen. When I was first taken to the Training Center by my cousin Wake, I was greeted personally by her and was floored with how down to Earth she is. There she was, right in the middle of things, helping the younger children with net-weaving and knot tying, then leaping up to spar with a seventeen year old boy just a year away from following in her footsteps and volunteering. And she did all of that with a grace like no one else I have had the luxury of meeting. THAT'S what I want to do after I win this thing, give back my knowledge and skill-set to the children and live up to not only Mags' legacy, but that of my cousin, who volunteered at eighteen but never returned home. I've studied his games as well as Mags' until I was blue in the face and could act out each and every moment. No one knows more about these games and how to play them better than I do and that is going to give me all the leverage I need to do what needs to be done to come out of the arena a Victor. All I have to do is keep my head in the game, focus on the task at hand, and ignore the Flirt riding in the elevator next to me.

We weren't the last ones to get to the Training Center below, but we weren't early by any means. District One was already there, Valkyrie was doing a few stretches while Gold was chatting it up with the little Gremlin-Girl from District Two. Her partner the Klutz was no where to be found. Off to the side, a few of the outer district's had begun to gather in pairs, including the large, dark-skinned boy from District Five (one of the few threats from the outer districts so far) and his adorable little partner named Zena, if memory serves me right, and the techie-looking kid from District Three, who's siblings I remember from last years games. Part of a triplet set, his siblings were Reaped last year and made it all the way to the final four, with the girl, Lacie I believe her name was, managing to use an electrical trap to eliminate the brute from District One before losing their lives to his District Partner. The boy sacrificed himself to save the girl, but after watching her brother lose his life, she all but gave up. I've got to hand it to those District Three kids...they always seem to surprise you.

"Look at her!" I turned to find Pike undressing the female tribute from Ten with his eyes. "I want to brand her like she was my very own Livestock. Yee-haw, cowgirl!"

Pig.

District One and Gremlin-Girl made their way over to us, obviously to size us up like we were the cattle from Ten. My District, while also being considered a Career District, is kind of the runt of the Career litter, thanks to years of no one volunteering and limited victors. Besides Mags', we only have Pontus Reef, who won the seveneeth games, Neptune Barracks from one of the very first games, and Clear Rivers, my cousin Wake's partner that avenged his death in a spectular, ground-shaking finale. She's in a psych hospital, high in the hills of DIstrict Four thanks to these games. While she had the skills to win, she lacked the coldness to survive after the victory. Because of all this, we are usually the first in the Career alliance to go down and I am making sure to get out of the pack long before that time comes.

"Where's your partner?" I ask Gremlin-Girl, who seems to find Pike most amusing. "Is he going to be part of the Career alliance?"

Audun, I believe her name is, forced a nod. "The way I see it, we can either leave him to guard our supplies or spend the games carrying them. What about sex-drive over there?" She points to Pike, who still has his sights set on District Ten's beautiful cowgirl.

"WIth the right guidance, he'll be alright. No formal training like myself, but he'll do fine. We just need to keep him focused." With that, I walked up behind Pike and slapped him in the back of the head. "Focus, nimrod! Focus!"

He shook the cobwebs out of his head and made his way towards us, opting to stand next to Valkyrire and pant over her for awhile. However, I quickly noticed he wasn't the only one looking at her; the partner of the girl Pike was drooling since the Chariot Rides last night was also eying up Valkyrie, who seemed none the wiser of it all.

Boys. Silly little boys.

**John Twig-17-D7**

"These stations are picked so that you are given everything you will need to survive your time in the Arena. While everyone wants to run right into the Weapons stations," Media, our trainer, paused and looked dead at the Careers. "I would advise you going to the survival stations as well. It is just as likely, if not more so, that many of you will die from the elements in the arena, poison, even dehydration, before you are killed by another tribute or a mutation. Dabble in a little bit of everything during your time here. The only rule we strongly enforce is do not become physical with another tribute, not even in sparing. We have trainers assigned just for that sort of thing. Now, enjoy your first day of training and don't forget to learn something."

Oliver Mumford, my mentor and winner of the fourteenth games, insisted that I try to stick with Serena and show a united front from the Lumber District, just as he did during his time in the arena. Oliver and Billie, the girl reaped alongside with him, had an alliance that lasted nearly two weeks, down to the final seven. They went their seperate ways just before the Feast, promising not to kill each other if they were to meet up. As he descended on the Cornucopia, he found the girl from District Ten driving her pitchfork through throat and he lost it, so to speak. Four out of the finale six met their end at his hands, all because of the tramp he had feelings for. At least I know I am safe in that department; while she might be a strong ally, I am still hoping to learn what berries are poisonious and will make her death long and painful. As one could tell, I am regretting mumbling a 'yes' to them.

Back home, I remember hearing stories about the things she had done to others around the District and really, I'm not all that surprised that she's here. As far as I knew, she had little to no family and that was probably why she liked to take her frustarations out on others around her, beating other girls for little to no reason behind it. At least when I attack, I do it for my own reasons. Mainly, revenge. Like Brickleberry's snot-nosed son, Lydon, who tried to get on my case about sleeping with his smut of a sister, Kimber. That girl was like the town bicycle, but because I didn't let her go gently afterward, I was deemed 'the bad guy'. Whatever. At least with Serena, I know I can keep her her in line until she is no longer useful and if not, she'll know what my backhand tastes like. Kimber learned real quick, but I'm sure Serena's a bit wiser than the mayor's little princess.

Over by the axes, the girl from Four looked like a fish out of water, for lack of a better term. She fingered the axes, as though trying to find the right fit for her until selecting a medium-sized throwing ax and made her way towards the targets. For a girl that probably hasn't chopped a piece of wood in her life, she was more than handy with it, taking out the neck of a practice dummy and sending the head soaring above us. I had to admit, I'm a bit jealous of the chick.

"Head in the games, Johnny," Serena's sing-songy voice went right through me like a hot iron spike, giving me an instant headache. "Ollie and Milla's plan to show a united front won't exactly work if you are caught eyeing up the enemy."

With a growl, I picked up a larger ax, not very different from the ones we use in the dense woods behind my house, and made my way towards an empty practice station, set up as a mini dummy slaughterhouse for us to slice and dice as much as we want. Not to be outdone by the broad from Four, I quickly made my way through the forest of white, slashing and hacking until the air around me was nothing but a fog of white feathers. Nothing like a little workout before we all tackle the Gauntlet. Once I was done, Serena handed me a towel to wipe the sweat from my brow and I nodded a thanks, which she returned.

"Now, watch this!"

Armed with throwing knives, her specialty it would appear, she stood behind District Four, waiting for her chance to show us all up. Four readied her ax and let it go, sailing it through yet another dummy's neck and sent the head flying through the air once again. Without missing a step, Serena let one of her throwing knives fly and it connected right in between the eyes of the dummy head and sent it flying through the air and pinned it to the wall behind it. For an obnoxious, boy-crazy slab, she wasn't half bad. This, however, infuriated the girl and sent her huffing and puffing back towards the ax station and demaning a bigger ax, which left the tiny, but somewhat scary girl from Two in hysterics. Much like the ax-thrower's District partner, the tiny girl didn't appear to be doing much of anything today, unless you count observing those around her or laughing at someone else's expense as 'doing something'. Usually, I would find her popping up at difference sections of the Center, cleaning her fingernails with a knife and cackling away.

A bell sounded, signaling that it was time to attempt what they have deemed The Gauntlet, which was really just an elaborate obstacle course designed to test our endurance, which we were being timed to complete. Swell.

The dark-haired girl with the hot body from One made it through with little issue, making the three minute time stamp seem like a pipe dream for the rest of us to chace. Her partner, the hulking boy that spent the morning swordfighting with the trainer and dominating over him with ease, had issues moving his large frame through some of the areas and was knocked out just before the end. Once again, District Two's cackle echoed around us, which only seemed to get under One's skin and nearly started a fight between them, which was quickly settled by him telling her to do better.

Unfortunately for him, she did, moving through the course like a crazed rabbit; leaping and ducking while making a face in his general direction every chance she got. In half the time it took the first girl to make it through, out came the little spitfire herself, proving once again why we should all be keeping an eye on her.

Her partner barely made it through, tripping over nearly everything and falling several times. However, unlike One, this klutz actually made it through the course. The pair from Three weren't bad, the girl proved to be a nimble little creature and came the closest to beating Two's time. Every tribute after them made it through the Gauntlet unharmed, but came nowhere near the top time. And then, it was Serena's turn. With a smile, she took off like a bolt of lightning, her strong legs carrying her far. However, it wasn't long before she was hit by foam arm and knocked clear out of the course and into the sea of foam blocks below. I couldn't help but smile.

"Watch this!" I exclaimed, mocking her high-pitched voice as I pulled her out of the blocks. In turn, she motioned for me to do better.

Duck. Dodge. Run. Repeat. Repeat. JUMP! Dive through the moving foam circle. While I didn't come near the top time, I at least made it through the end with style and managed to put a smirking Serena back into her place as my underling.

Oh yes. These games are going to prove quite interesting.

**Phlox Whexl-15-D3**

The Gauntlet did exactly what it was supposed to do, start a nice rivalry between everyone and drive us apart. The pair from Seven seemed to have a forced bond between them that was tested by him coming out of the course while he partner did not. I even managed to nearly best the girl from Two, who was now staring daggers into my skull. Oh well, she'd have to catch me to kill me.

Elliot, my District partner, has proven to be a strong and true ally. Despite my initial plan of finding a weakling that will get me so far and then finding a place to stick my knife and end our relationship, I am finding myself actually caring for him. If by some chance I actually meet my end in this place, he would be my only other pick to win these games. He actually congradulated me on getting a decent time and together, we've been tinkering in the tiny tech section, showing each other what we know. This is a huge departure for me, since I usually don't openly share my secrets with anyone.

The pretty girl from Ten keeps inching her way over towards us, watching what we are doing with a speak in her hand and half-smile on her face. Elliot looked up at her and smiled, only to scare her enough to run towards the same practice area as the Careers. Poor girl just wandered into the Lions Den. We watch in silence as Audun, the tiny terror from Two and suprising leader of the Career pack this year, begins to taunt her. In frustration, the pretty girl launches her spear, which connects with the gut of a dummy and actually shuts the little mutt up, which amuses not only Elliot and myself, but the flirt from District Four and her own District Partner, a large boy that has been staring at the girl from One since the Chariot rides last night. The flirt leads her away from the massive group of trained killers, Napolean-like leaders, and klutzes, which ends up being just a few feet away from us. Elliot ignores it, opting instead to tinker with his wires, leaving me to eavesdrop on the situation.

"You are worth me dropping out of the Career alliance and facing certain death, you know that?"

She raises her eyebrow, but to her credit, says nothing.

"My name is Pike, fisherman extrodinaire-"

She cuts him off. "Pike isn't a name...it's a fish. Now please, leave me alone. You have your alliance and I have my own, thank you."

As she turns to walk away, he grabs her by the arm. "What alliance? You've been alone this entire time!"

Across from me, Elliot slowly rises up and silently makes her way towards the situation, which was slowly starting to get out of hand. "Come on, Sosannah. I'm nearly done with the ires and I can show you what to do next."

With a smirk, she pulls away from a flabbergasted Fish-Boy and makes her way over towards us. Once out of earshot, she whispers a quick, "Thanks."

For an alliance I didn't even want, this thing keeps on growing and growing and growing.

Lunch was quite like the one in my old school, complete with the same social politics. The Careers were quite like the popular kids, huddled together and making sure all the underlings around them felt beneath them in some way. The Littles, as I have deemed them, sat together at the table closest to the deserts, gabbing away like their deaths aren't just days away. The smallest of the four, Sophie, didn't even make it through the Gauntlet; she collapsed from a coughing fit a quarter of the way through and had to be taken aside and examined before she was allowed back into the Training Center. I remembered her Reaping and it was apparent that the poor dear was dying anyway, which is probably why she was picked to begin with. The rest of them; the tiny boy from Eight and the pair from Eleven, all seemed to have a great friendship forming, which is what I am afraid of doing here. The closer I get to Sosannah and Elliot, the harder it is going to be when we are faced with only one of us coming home.

The rest seemed to pair up with their District Partners, like the pair from Seven that seemed to have formed an alliance out of an attempt to one-up the other. Meanwhile, we have the ones from Five that have formed a protective alliance, with the hulking boy standing guard over the smaller girl, who I can tell is better than she lets on. It had seemed that everyone had some sort of alliance formed, with the exception of the quiet girl from Eight and Sosannah's partner, who is probably waiting for his chance to get with the Careers and hook up with the dark-haired girl. Boys...

Back on the floor, Sosannah took to Elliot like he was the only person around and waited on baited breath every time he spoke. What began as a partnership between District Three techies was now becoming a couple with me assuming the roll of the Third Wheel. Elliot began to spill everything to her, about how we were planning on using some form of electronics in the arena to set off my mines. Why does she need to know, really? I highly doubt she is making it far enough into the games for her to see. And besides, this girl knows nothing of what we are trying to do...what is her little spear going to do against the awesome, raw power of explosives?

**Walter Tate-12-D8**

Woof was excited to hear that I had an alliance; I guess he thought no one would want to team up with a little guy from District Eight. What he didn't know, was that I wasn't the only kid in there. Sophie is the youngest of all twenty-four of us, her twelfth birthday was only a week or two ago. At least I'll be thirteen in just three days and by then, I'll be in the Arena, fighting for my life. Just another instance of me being unlucky.

Back in District Eight, there were two common misconceptions about me. One, that I had no idea that these horrible "accidents" were happening around me, as though I wasn't bright enough to know what was going on. That couldn't be further from the truth. I know what is going on around me, I notice when people see me coming and cross the street or make a sign over their heart in order to keep my 'curse' from getting them. It pains me to my core that others view me in such a way. All I have ever wanted was someone who cared about me, that wanted to be my friend and saw past the coincidences that keep everyone away from me.

The second thing is, some people do believe that I had something to do with the things that seem to happen around me and, more importantly, what happened to my family. That thought hurts more than anything else. My mother and brother meant everything to me, why would I want to be responsible for their deaths and in such a horrible, painful way? Yes, I do blame myself, since it was my fault Darren was in the water to begin with; my foul ball during our little baseball game had landed in the water and it was our only ball left. When his foot became entangled in plants underwater and he failed to come up, I went screaming for my mother to come and save him, where she failed to free him from the plants. Part of me believes that my mother didn't become tangled up in those plants like my brother did, but instead opted to stay there because death was easier to face than failing to save her youngest son from such a slow death.

Woof's sweet voice brings me back to earth. "Ready for Day Two?"

"Yup. My friends are waiting for me." He smiles as I stretch out the word 'friends'. "I'm getting really good with a slingshot."

"Good to hear." He leans down and whispers in my ear. "How is Silver doing?"

I shrug my answer.

"Just...keep an eye on her, alright?" He sighed, letting his eyes gloss over with tears. "You might be my tribute to mentor this year, but I still care about both of you."

He sees the serious expression take over my face and he tussles my wispy brown hair to take it away. "Have fun with your new friends and learn some survival skills, ok?"

I perk up. "Will do, sir!"

"Go get'em, Walter!"

For a guy that won the games and went through some of the worst things possible, he really is a nice guy. He doesn't recoil back when I approach him, like Silver and Remy do, he smiles instead and gives me an extra muffin when our escort isn't looking. Even though he's only twenty, I wish he could be my father, or at least my big brother. He doesn't have to even pretend to be nice to me, yet he does and he is. My dad won't even acknowledge that I am around and is scared of me because of what happened to my Mommy and Darren.

Downstairs, Terra and Teddy are waiting for me by the fire-building station like we promised we would. Terra, for being a bit of a girly-girl, is actually pretty good at building fires, something that will come in handy when we are out in the arena. Also for being a girly-girl, she's a pretty nice girl. Her District Partner Teddy, however, is big and strong and a real rival for the Careers, but his mind isn't all there. It's almost as if it is made of mush and I'm afraid that he won't know what's going on when we get to the arena and we'll lose him in the beginning. Then again, we all have our strengths in this alliance, as well as some pretty big weaknesses and that's something. The most important thing is that we are all friends and even the games won't change that.

"Where's Sophie?" Terra asked, as more and more people spilled out of the elevators and into the Center. "I think I saw her loud-mouth partner come down-"

"Yes. Her 'loud-mouth partner' IS here." Terra nearly jumped out of her skin as Thaddeus appeared behind her, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "She'll be down shortly, she had another coughing fit this morning."

He walked away, almost laughing, as we sat and started at each other for a minute. We all knew Sophie was sick, it was common knowledge after we saw her Reaping and watched her collapse. None of us brought it up, but it weighed heavily on the back of our minds. Especially mine, as we were a pair long before we were joined by the partners from Eleven while we were at the edible plants station. It was nothing against Terra and Teddy, nothing at all. It's just...I care about Sophie and I want her to be free of all of this sickness and death. She's special, like an angel sent here. I just want her to be better, is all.

I didn't realize I was crying until Terra's hand grabbed a hold of my own. "Come on, Walter. Let's go over to the camouflage station." She turned her attention to Teddy, who she has been rubbing two sticks together like a madman. "Come along, Teddy. We're going to learn how to paint each other up like trees and plants."

"Paint? I love to paint with Stanley back home!"

Teddy spoke often about his little brother, Stanley, that took care of him while they were in the fields and anywhere else they might be. Part of me feels relieved the maybe, just maybe, Stanley can have a life now. Now, it is Terra and I's turn to watch over Teddy, to make sure he is making it through ok.

I just hope we are doing him justice.

**Zena Stig-12-D5**

Eko watches over me as if I was his little sister. In a way, I am grateful; I could have no one ready to attack Careers if they even look at me funny or strike down a Mutt coming my way. Or, I could be with the rest of the kids my age, testing out the different paints in the Camouflage station, having fun. Instead, I am with Eko and today, we are learning knot tying. He insists on waiting until the last day to use any type of weapons, which is fine by me. The less I show off here, the less the Careers and the rest of these guys will expect from me.

What they don't know is that I secretly trained myself, just in the off chance that another Stig child is Reaped.

My older brother Milo was barely a year old than I am now when his name was picked out of the thousands of other District Five boys. Two slips was all it took for my big brother to be taken away from me. Two slips was all it took of him to become just another District Five Bloodbath victim. Two slips to have his neck snapped like a twig by a giant from District Eleven, hence why the boy named Teddy scares me just a little bit. Despite the obvious personality difference, he reminds me too much of the brute that took my innocence at just seven years old and drove my need to train. Not to volunteer, do not get me wrong, but to defend my life if my name was chosen.

And chosen I was. Why? Maybe if I make it back home, I can find out. But that will never happen. While I may have some skills, they are nothing compared to the Careers, who have trained with real weapons their entire lives, like the ax-wielder from District Four or the pretty-boy from One, who has finally dropped his sword in favor of a bow. At the end of the day, I am just another tiny Stig child, too small to make myself stand out among the more interesting tributes and just another twelve year old chosen to die by my own people. I am just a liability.

"Pay attention, Zena. Under, over, through the middle. This is always as skill we could use to save our lives in the arena." His kind brown eyes found mine and I can't help but notice a hint of sadness in them. "What's the matter?"

"If you need to, you can ditch me in the arena." Tears started to pepper my vision and I have to remove my glasses to wipe them clean. "I'll only weigh you down."

His sigh was deafening. "District Five doesn't abandon our own."

"District Five barely makes it out of the Bloodbath." Milo's neck, twisted at a terrible angle, fills my mind. "You have a reason to make it home. Satchel needs you."

"And your little sister and mother need you."

"Need I remind you that no twelve year old has won the games, Eko. Don't waste your time and life protecting me."

For a moment, he is silent, almost as if he was at a loss for words. "No twelve year old deserves to be here and all of Panem knows this. You are a special, bright girl, and if I had my say, you'd be the one going home. Not me, not some meat-head Career, you! So get over it, stop your belly-aching, and get back to knot-tying!"

I was stunned into silence. Eko, who has barely spoken above a whisper to anyone, just put me in my place. Stranger things have happened in the Arena, so why can't a pair from District Five make it past the Bloodbath. Eliza did it, why can't we do it as well?

"Let's try our hands at the weapons!"

Eko raised his eyebrow. "Are you sure? The Careers have been bogarting that section since yesterday."

"And? Let's show them what District Five can do!"

For a moment, it didn't matter that we were in a fight for our lives where only one of us could go home a victor. For a moment, it didn't matter that the girl from Two was glaring me down and the male Careers were eying up Eko like they were both worried about his skills and planning on aiming for him during the Bloodbath. Nothing mattered except for Eko and myself, District Five banning together and sticking out, no matter what the Arena throws our way. We were going to go out fighting and if I have anything to do with it, one of us will come back home a victor. I just know it!

Eliza can't keep doing this mentoring thing alone.

**Valkyrie Sinclair-17-D1**

The frail little angel from District Nine finally joined us as lunch was being served. She looked worse than yesterday, when she had to be helped out of the Gauntlet and worked on by medical standby. Usually, I could care less about someone like Sophie, her death means my survival, but it would appear that all of us have a soft spot for the youngest tribute in the Games. All of us, except for our 'elected' leader, Audun, who took it upon herself to mock the girl by pretending to faint. While us Careers are known for our sadistic nature, the rest of us didn't find her the least bit funny. Life had already dealt the girl a death-blow, why should we add to it?

"Quit being mean!" Even her voice was tiny, barely a whisper.

Audun was right on her, getting into the face of the little girl that she barely taller than. "Mean? Mean is me letting you live past the Bloodbath and hoping that a mutt eats you whole."

Tears streamed down the little girl's face as Audun took great amusement in her pain. "Don't you worry, pretty little angel...I'll make your death my top priority in the games, so no mutt will have at you!"

I couldn't watch any longer. While I was known back in District One for being a bit of a brute when it came to some of the ditzy blondes that DARED to face me, I didn't go out of my way to make sick twelve year olds cry. There is a difference in being trained to go into the games and being a sociopath looking forward to killing. Maybe that's the difference in the Luxury and Masonry Districts; we only take pleasure in the suffering of opponents that can fight back. Well, that isn't completely true. I know I'd get a kick from taking that obnoxious knife-thrower from Seven that made Draiven look like a novice yesterday and skinning her alive with her own knives.

"Rough day, huh?" His voice startled me. So much so, that I spun around on my heels and nearly drug my machete across his chest. "Slow down there, cowgirl. Rules state that we aren't allowed to start butchering each other until they unleash us into the Arena."

Ugh. Of all the people to have standing behind me, mocking me, it has to be the big lug from District Ten. Ash...or something. When he hasn't been gawking at me from afar, he's been keeping a watchful eye on that trampy looking girl that turned down moron from Four, only to get swept up by the geeks from Three. Now that she was taken care of, I guess he has his sights set back on me.

"Are you stalking me?"

He scoffed. "Stalking you? Ney. I was already standing here, waiting to use the knives and practice something in my time here. Might as well learn something before I am thrown like a dog into a death-match."

"You use knives?" He nodded. "OK, show me what you've got!"

With a smile from ear to ear, he plucked the machete from my hand and made his way into the practice center, where a trainer was waiting for someone to go for him. Luckily for the trainer he was wearing layers of padding, as Ash made quick work of the blade and before I knew it, the trainer was begging for mercy. Then, because he's just a that great of a guy, Ash helped the guy to his feet and shock his hand, thanking him for being a good sport. It was so cutesy, I could vomit.

"Impressed?" He huffed, wiping the sweat from his brow.

I smirked and shook my head. If I was being honest with myself, I kind of was impressed, but I wasn't about to admit it to him. After all, I am a Career and I have a reputation to uphold. Someone like me couldn't possibly be caught with the likes of him, a dirt-poor nobody from an outer district. What would my Uncle Silas say?

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." It was like he was reading my thoughts. "Go on back to the killers and your delusions of grandeur, little Diamond."

Usually, I would have a comeback for just this thing. My words sting just as harshly as my blades do, maybe even more so. But with Ash...it's like my insults are on the tip of my tongue, but refuse to do damage. This frustrates me more than Audun's creepy laugh, Gold's mommy's boy syndrome, Williams' general uselessness, and Draiven's perfection. Ever since I noticed him watching me during the Chariot rides, he has gotten under my skin and it's a feeling I am not used to.

No. I have to ignore this. This is the Hunger Games and the rules of love and friendship need not apply.

**Teddy Porterhouse-17-D11**

I want to go home.

I miss Stanley.

I want to go back to the fields, where the bunnies come and join us while we harvest the berries. I'm not supposed to eat the berries, but sometimes I sneak them. Stanley always covers for me, so the Peacekeepers won't whip me. For breakfast, they let me have as many berries as I like and no one stops me. But Zion, she keeps watching me, her smile looks sad.

It's the same smile people give me back home.

After breakfast, Terra takes my hand and we head for the elevator. Today's the last day for us to learn anything knew to show the men that keep watching us play. They say that I need to show them something when I am alone, but I don't know what. Maybe I can show them all of the edible plants I can eat, or I could start a fire. No...I'm not very good at that. Walter is good at that, but then he accidentally set my pant leg on fire. He was sad when it happened, like he thought I wouldn't be his friend no more. But Terra and Sophie and Walter are the bestest friends I've ever had besides Stanley, I could never hurt them. Who I want to hurt is the bad girl from Two that makes fun of Sophie and makes her cry. When they say it's ok, I'll show her!

"Come on, Teddy, they said to meet them by the weapons today."

Terra ran off, leaving me behind. Up ahead, I can see Walter waiting for me, his face still a little sad from yesterday. Sophie isn't here again, where could she be?

"Look at this big oaf! I bet you he doesn't last twenty seconds in the games!" I know her voice, she's the girl that makes Sophie cry.

I turned around and found her laughing with the bigger boy from One, the one that had the pretty white horse during the pony rides.

"You stop making fun of me!"

She laughed again, only getting me more angry. "What are you going to do about it, you oaf? Get the little spaz from eight to kick me in the shins while the baby from Nine gives me her disease?" Before I had the chance to do anything, she took my Woof-Woof from my hands and threw it across the room near the fire station.

A hiss came up from my belly and before I knew it, I had my hands around her neck. She gagged and choked, but I didn't care. She needs to stop being so mean to us. The men in the white outfits came at me, their scary bats in their hands and I hissed at them too. No one is supposed to touch me, Stanley and Mama told me so. No one should hurt me. But they hurt me and made me fall to the ground while the boy from One yelled at me to leave mean girl alone. He says I'll pay in the arena, but he should have made her stop.

Then everything gets dark like night.

Terra visits me upstairs, but she said Woof-Woof is gone. She gives me a hug like Stanley used to and tells me how Walter went over to the boy from One and yelled at him for me, telling him not to threaten me. He's always protecting me, like Stanley. Sophie is ok, too. She didn't get sick like she did yesterday and that makes me happy. Sophie has a big smile and I like that. It reminds me of home. Terra tells me that tomorrow I should show them how strong I am, like I did today. If I can get a good score, they will forget that I hurt that girl. But she hurt me first, she hurt me with her words. Why should I be in trouble if she did it first?

I don't want to show those men in robes what I can do.

I want to go home.

I miss Stanley.

**Grayson Wheeler-16-D6**

I didn't plan on teaming up with my District partner. With three Wheeler siblings lost to the games, I figured I had to either go at this thing like a lone wolf, or showcase myself proper and showoff to the Careers. Since this years cast of early District psychos seem more _off_ than usual, I figured I'd just stick to myself.

And then walked in December Dawson.

We seemed to hit it off right away, talking about our pasts on the train as though it meant something before now, and the chariots bonded us together as a united front. Especially since I know that if it came down to a fight without weapons, she'd be the one I'd want in my corner. Her reputation for being a bit of a crazed bitch when her fists were up was well-known in Six, even when people like her tended to be the norm for the Morphling Capitol of Panem. What her reputation didn't include was what a sweet person she was underneath the anger issues. She could easily be someone I would just hang out with and forget about the past that keeps catching up with me.

But, no matter what I do, it always catches up with me.

District Six might not be known for it's rebelliousness, most of us are too drugged out to give two-shits about the state of Panem, but the ones that are rebels tend to be legendary.

Legendary, and easy to find.

My parents were murdered for their acts, which included staging protests outside of the factories that produce automobiles for the President and attacks on Peacekeepers and left my brother Trolly in charge of eight children. Part of me hates my parents for what they've done, but only because of the negative effect it has had on my life, but mostly, I see them as my heroes. But Panem is a wicked mistress and with the Hunger Games coming every year, half of the Wheeler children, myself included, found themselves entering the arena to entertain the masses. Ryder fell first when I was just five years old, the same year my parents died. She made it pretty far, placing seventh before being mauled by mutts while her ally, Oliver Mumford from Seven, tried in vain to save her. My only memories of my brave big sister are of her in the arena, fighting for her life.

This is why I have to fight and return home.

The knives they have in the Training Center are nothing like the ones I hours nearly every day throwing around make-shift targets in my backyard and bedroom. For starters, I won't have to worry about having to use these to cut through the meat I might be lucky enough to grace my stomach with. Secondly, they have a bit more weight to them, which actually helps it stick to the targets with a sickening _thud._ The damage it can do to a human skull is something I don't want to know about until I am actually in the arena, fighting for my life.

"We've been at this for two day, Gray. Maybe we should move onto the survival stuff, since neither of us knows how to build a fire or eat leaves." She mockingly points a finger at the youngest of us here, who have gathered themselves around the edible plants station once again, driving the instructor insane with their constant questions. They mascot, the gentle giant from Eleven was hauled out of here just over an hour ago because he tried to choke the life out of the bitch from Two. Serves her right, picking on the kid. He might seem like a huge, looming threat, but in his mind, he can't be more than four or five. No wonder his district wanted to get rid of him.

With all of my personal training I did at home, which also included running laps and lifting up the junk car parts that littered my backyard, I never bothered to factor in survival training. District Six was more of an urban place, compared to what I could see of the other districts from the train, so survival meant something different to us. Fighting, learning to breathe without sucking in too much fog from the factories, and saying no to Morphling seemed to be our survival skills, while the arena would probably need us to have knowledge of killing and cooking baby animals, sprinting away from bloodthirsty Careers, and...leaf knowledge? Seriously...why are those little kids STILL at that same station?

"Gray, look, I started a fire." Just inches from her hands, a small blaze had sparked, thanks to the buckle of matches in her hand. If that's all we needed to know about fire-starting, why bother putting it here. Any idiot can do that!

"You should really learn how to get a good fire going when you are all out of matches and drenched in rain and the blood of other tributes." Wow, this instructor really takes his job seriously. "Gather yourself a pair of flints and it works just as well as any match."

Actually, no, it doesn't. Much to December's amusement, using rocks to start a fire did not come as natural to me as knife-throwing. After nearly a half an hour and using every four-letter word I could think and then some, I handed the rocks over to my partner with a huff. "You try it, Match-Girl."

Of course, to my disdain, she once again created fire after only a handful of tries. Oh well, at least one of us will have survival skills. Couple that with my knife skills and her ax training here at the Center and we are going to be the team to beat in this thing.

It just sucks that only on of us can make it back home.

**Silver Rebel-15-D8**

Look at all of these people, these tributes, these sheep. Pairing themselves up into little groups of two and more, getting attached to each other when all the while, only one of them can come out a winner. It's pathetic, really. Going at this thing alone might be the only way to come out with your soul intact. At least, what's what I learned from my mentor, Remy. Then again, all he did was live in wet leaves for a week or two, which is hardly something I want to be remembered for. Then again, a win is a win, no matter how you do it. Look at that girl from Eleven that won last year, she barely took out anymore and yet, she managed to make it home again.

Home. That is why I am doing this. Victor's Village would be a great place to call home after spending all these years living in the abandoned factories, avoiding anyone that could send me to live in those orphanages I've heard about. Crippling jobs in the textiles as well as crippling abuse? No thank you. That's why I take my chances in the urban wild of Eight, at least there anything that happens is by my hand.

Clutching my dagger, I move my way through the target area, my body as flat on the floor as I can get it. Stealth has always been my main line of offense before I came to the Capitol, there was no reason to change my flow at this point in the game. This time, instead of picking the pockets of the dummies that resided above me, I shanked them with my dagger, drawing fluffy white blood from each as I make my way through the jungle. I was in my element, completely in my zone. So much so, that I never even noticed that it was time to end our training. Without warning, an attendant pulled me from out of my happy place and pushed me towards the elevators that were the signal that my fun was over.

Upstairs, I was reminded that my fun would never return to me again.

Remy was a broken winner, a reminder that even if you win, in all actuality, you still lose. He is twitchy, jumpy, the opposite of mild-mannered Woof, who has taken to Walter as though the boy came from his loins. A pang of jealousy hits me, showing me once again that I am truly alone in this. I can't really fault them, after all, Walter is a likeable kid, even if he is a cursed little jinx. Despite his cute smile, he frightens me like nothing else. No one can come with that much bad luck without doing something to cause it in the first place. Even the kid's father wants nothing to do with him and believes that he had a hand in killing his mother and brother. At least that much seems farfetched, as I don't believe he stood on their backs as they drown or tangled them in the vines that drowned them himself.

But enough about the twerp. I smack the side of my head to knock the cobwebs clear. If I am to go back home to District eight and join Remy and Woof in the Village, then I have to keep my head in the game. If I can survive the streets of Eight, fending for myself and pickpocketing the only rich people the district has to offer, than I sure as hell have this in the bag. The only difference is, location, location, location.

"How was your last day of training? Did you try a little bit of everything, like we discussed?" Remy's voice is flat, lacking emotion. I nod, even though it's a lie. "Good kid. Maybe you can win and take over my job."

The lack of depth to his voice is a change from how he sound at one point in time. Thanks to the television set that was 'lying around' the mayor's home and happened into my make-shift home, I have seen the highlights of both Remy and Woof's games. Pre-Arena, Remy's voice was sugary-sweet, sounding like that of a young boy, instead of a lad of sixteen. Now, there was nothing of that boy left. This could easily be my fate if I come out of this thing alive. It almost makes me wonder...

...is this what I truly want?

And if so, is it even worth It?

_Seething in my head_

_I'm suffering instead_

_I can't remember why_

_This meant so much to me..._

**A/N: Oh. My. Goodness. Squirrel Punter has graced us with her presence and brought with her the next chapter. It only took her FOUR MONTHS! Kidding aside, I am so sorry about the HUGE delay in chapters. I could give you guys the laundry list of problems that arouse in the making of this chapter, but why take up your time? Just enjoy the fact that I have returned and plan to bring you the next chapter very soon. Next chapter will include Training Sessions, Training Scores, and interview prep and the last chapter before the Bloodbath will be that of the interviews from the POV of someone we all know and love from the series. **


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